


Move Inside Of Your Light

by sterekhale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cowboy Derek Hale, Derek Hale & Erica Reyes Friendship, Derek Hale is a Softie, Fluff, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Original Character(s), Romantic Fluff, Vernon Boyd & Derek Hale Friendship, content warning on individual chapters if needed, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 73,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekhale/pseuds/sterekhale
Summary: After fleeing from hunters Derek found refuge in a small Wyoming town. For almost ten years, he lived alone in a cabin among acres of land, until one night he stumbles upon a car accident near his place. When the driver comes to with his friendly smile and beautiful brown eyes, there’s no way Derek could’ve predicted the next three weeks.Stiles is a hunter who can’t go home and the alpha of the fallen Hale pack is his Hail Mary. What he didn’t expect to find was a gentle and broken man in place of the so-called mighty alpha. Despite the pressures from back home, Stiles keeps putting off what he has to do, while falling for the one person he’s not supposed to.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 318





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is taken from What Have I Done by Dermot Kennedy. A perfect song for this fic, check it out!
> 
> Saw a picture of Tyler Hoechlin from the So It Goes magazine photoshoot and the rest is history… lots of artistic liberties were taken in this fic... I am by no means a horse/farm expert, or gun/weapon expert. All my knowledge comes from what I can find online, sorry for any mistakes... a lot of the ages have been changed from canon just as a heads up.

The last place he expected to find the Hale alpha was a small Wyoming town with one main street and more cowboy hats than cars built after the early 2000s.

Miles outside of the town was the alpha’s property. Acres and acres of fields and forests. He hadn’t been there yet, didn’t want to leave his scent, but he found a bit of information online. Sold nine years ago to a Derek Wilson after being on the market for years.

It’d be easy. A lone alpha. 

He rolled down his window and tapped the ash off his cigarette as he drove out to the property. Though he'd done a lot of dangerous things in his life, taking on the Hale alpha seemed like the most reckless thing he would do. 

His dad’s death flashed through his mind. He wasn’t there. Though he could imagine it as if he was. His dad on his knees, begging for his life, knowing he was leaving his son alone. His chest stilling with his final breath, the life leaving his eyes, blood pooling on the ground. Seeping into the dirt.

_You still got me._

This was for him.

A deer appeared in the headlights. Big and wide-eyed. He cranked the wheel to one side. The ditch came at him hard and fast. The car collided with a tree. His ears fuzzy with the loud bang of the airbags. He raised his head just as he blacked out.

* * *

Derek threw down a couple of bills. “Have a good night.”

Boyd collected his empty glass from the bar counter. “You too,” he said.

Derek stood up and clasped Jimmy’s sagging shoulder on the stool next to him. “Why don’t I drive you home?” Derek asked.

The older man shrugged. “Sure.”

Derek swung Jimmy’s arm around his neck and helped the old man stumble through the bar.

“Night Derek, night Jimmy,” Erica called out. “See you guys later.”

He got Jimmy home, Ruby waved to him through the window. At least the man had someone to go home to.

In the night sky, the stars shone brightly without light pollution. Streetlights faded into the background as he drove away from the small town. The headlights on his truck weren’t great, a dull yellow that only lit up a couple feet ahead of him. Thankfully, he could see into the darkness on the edges. 

Wyoming winters were long and harsh. He all but holed up in the cabin with a stack of books and the fireplace burning full blaze. But the Wyoming summer was beautiful. Pink and orange sunsets, calm mornings, the odd thunderstorm tearing through the sky. Quiet trail rides, tailgate parties, barbecues with Boyd and Erica on his porch. He’d come to enjoy it all.

With the windows rolled down to let in the warm breeze, the road home stretched out in front of him. If he listened carefully he could hear the wildlife around him, hidden in the farm fields and the trees lined down the side of the road. Cicadas sang, crickets chirped, there was the rustling of an odd raccoon or mouse. Owls screeched as they hunted for prey. The animals were the only sounds in the quiet night.

At first, he didn’t like the quiet. It was suffocating to be left alone with his thoughts. With time, it’d grown to be comforting in its own way.

As he got closer to his property, there was a noise out of place. A radio played rock music. Loudly. And a heartbeat that didn’t belong.

The only thing nearby was his place. Nothing else for miles. It was rare for another car to be out there and definitely not close to midnight. He got closer and could hear the faint groans of someone. The bright red taillights in the ditch appeared as he came around the bend.

Slamming on the breaks, he parked his truck on the shoulder. There wasn’t a hospital within a couple hours of the town. The only doctor was on call at night and even then, she’d take a while to get there.

Derek ran over to the car and let out a relieved breath once he could see into it. There was just one person – a young man – and he was alive. Blood dribbled down his chin from his split lip. A dark bruise already blossomed across his cheekbone. He smelled strongly of nicotine.

There was another smell of smoke, different than cigarettes, probably the air bags when they’d gone off. The windshield had cracked into spider webs. The front end was gnarled pieces of metal and plastic against the tree.

Derek opened the car door and tilted the man’s face towards him. He was unconscious. Derek undid the man’s seatbelt, gently shook his shoulder. “Hello?” Derek said. "Can you hear me?"

Long eyelashes fluttered against the man’s cheeks. Cognac-brown eyes opened, as soft as honey and as warm as the summer air. They took Derek's breath from him as the man looked up with confusion.

“You were in an accident,” Derek said. “What’s your name?”

The man groaned before he rolled his head towards the front of the car. He didn’t appear to be too injured. His heartbeat and breaths were strong. But they were in the middle of nowhere. What was Derek supposed to do? 

He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t heartless. Maybe he didn’t feel things like a normal person anymore but he didn’t want the man to suffer.

The radio still blasted an old Bob Seger song that grated his nerves. He shut off the car and put the keys in his pocket. Another soft groan fell from the man’s mouth as Derek lifted him out of the car.

“You’re safe,” Derek said. He carried the man bridal style, the weight almost nothing compared to Derek’s strength, his head fell to Derek’s shoulder, resting gently as Derek walked back to his truck down the road.

With the stranger in his front seat, Derek drove the short distance to his cabin. The porch and barn lights were the only lights around for miles. Parking his truck, he looked over at the man leaning against the passenger door, staring out the windshield.

The man finally spoke, his voice raspy. “Stiles.” His tongue darted out and licked the blood on his bottom lip. “My name is Stiles.”

* * *

Stiles was a nickname. Given to him by his dad because Mieczysław was ridiculous. Only a few people called him Stiles. The rest called him Stilinski or Mischief.

Which made Stiles the perfect undercover name. It wasn’t a lie. He’d respond to it without hesitation. And it hadn’t circulated the rumor pools of the supernatural world, which were worse than a high school.

“Stiles?” the alpha repeated.

He nodded weakly. “A nickname.”

The alpha accepted it. Didn’t question it. Not that Stiles expected him to.

The accident took more out of him than he'd first thought and he felt rather vulnerable in the truck next to the alpha. Chris’ voice echoed in his head. “ _He had blue eyes at fifteen years old. He’s killed innocents.”_

His head pounded, and the nausea that washed over him left him wondering if he'd managed to give himself a fucking concussion.

“I’m Derek.”

Right. He wasn’t supposed to know that. He had to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d blow it. “Nice to meet you,” Stiles said. An aching pain shot through his body. “Well... kind of.”

Derek gave him a small smile. “There’s not really a doctor around.”

“Can’t afford it anyways.” Which wasn’t a lie. He was officially off the Argents’ unofficial payroll.

The alpha got out of the truck and walked over to the passenger side. He lifted Stiles into his arms and carried him over to the cabin. The gentleness in his touch and words surprised Stiles. 

Warmth replaced the aching. He moved only his eyes to catch a glimpse of the alpha’s arms. Black veins drained the pain from his body as he was carried across the grass. Maybe the Hale alpha was just another thing they’d lied about.

But Stiles was too tired for that now.

Derek opened the door — it wasn’t even locked — and stepped through to the small cabin. A dog let out an excited bark and tried to jump up on them. Mid-size, fluffy, brown and white. Maybe a mutt. Definitely young.

“Odie, down,” Derek said sternly. An alpha tone.

The dog — Odie — whined and sat, calming down instantly.

The cabin flooded with a dull light. It was one big room. The kitchen on one side and living room on the other. A bed pushed into the corner near the stone fireplace.

The alpha placed him down on the bed. The metal frame creaked with the weight. He barely had enough energy to sit up.

“I don’t have a first aid kit or anything.”

Right. Werewolves. “I’m okay,” he said, the taste of iron in his mouth. “Maybe just a cloth?” He shut his eyes. The light was too bright.

“Okay.”

When he opened his eyes, the alpha had disappeared. Stiles took the chance to look closer at the cabin. The front door was the only exit. The windows were split into squares, wood lined each individual square, wasn’t really an option for a quick escape, unless he popped out the screens somehow. A shotgun leaned against the wall next to the door. A box of bullets sat on a shelf above it. What did a werewolf need with a gun?

The cabin was actually kind of homey. With nothing special or ordinary out of place. A dresser with an old ornate lamp, a thick throw blanket folded over the back of the couch, exposed shelves in the kitchen with just the basics. A cowboy hat hung up next to the door. All things he'd expect to find in a Wyoming cabin.

The alpha came out of the doorway at the end of the bed, must be the bathroom, he held out a wet cloth.

Stiles took it and flashed the alpha a grateful smile, his arm shook as he raised the cloth up to his mouth. He winced when it stung the cut on his lip.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Derek asked.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Just passing through.” He kept it vague. “A deer came out of nowhere.”

Derek nodded, the bed dipped as he sat down beside Stiles. “Let me,” he said, taking the cloth from Stiles’ hand. Delicately, he wiped the cloth across Stiles’ chin. His other hand landed on Stiles’ back with a touch that was barely there.

The alpha had put on a sweater at some point. Which didn’t make sense on the hot July night. The cabin wasn’t exactly equipped with AC. When Stiles’ body filled with a buzzing warmth again he realized the reason for the sweater.

Derek took his hand away from Stiles’ back and refolded the cloth. He dabbed it against the cut a couple more times. “You can stay here for the night.”

Sleep pulled at him, and with his car destroyed, Stiles was out of options. “Thanks.” He felt safe. Maybe it was foolish. But he was exhausted and hurt like a motherfucker.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“I can’t take your bed,” Stiles said.

“All good,” Derek said with a smile. Huh, he was kind of beautiful — Stiles definitely had some kind of brain damage. “I’ll put a glass of water on the side table for you.”

_“They wouldn’t hesitate to kill a human... and Hales are the most dangerous of all. More powerful than the average werewolf, more bloodthirsty. Derek is a threat and you need to neutralize that threat.”_

But the man in front of him didn’t seem bloodthirsty. Didn’t seem like a threat. His eyebrows twisted together, and he watched Stiles with concern in his eyes. He drained his pain, took Stiles to his place, gave up his bed.

Stiles’ eyes shut before his head even hit the pillow. “Thanks,” he muttered again, as Derek drained more of his pain. He fell asleep to the sounds of cicadas and the steady breaths of Derek.

* * *

Derek stayed on the edge of the bed until the man’s – Stiles’ – chest moved with a deep sleep. He rinsed out the cloth in the bathroom and hung it over the shower rod before filling a glass of water and leaving it on the bedside table like he’d said he would.

Taking in Stiles was a risk, Derek normally wouldn’t take, Derek knew nothing about him. But he didn’t feel like a risk with his wide eyes and soft smile. He was human and young.

Derek stripped off the sweater he’d used to cover his arms. Maybe he shouldn’t have risked exposure to drain the pain but he didn’t like watching people suffer. Never had.

He pulled off his belt and shoes. Letting Odie outside, he stood on the porch as the dog ran around the yard.

He’d grown lonely over the years and it made him crave something he never had. Someone he never had. In the quiet moments, like then, he felt it the most. “Odie! Let’s go,” he called.

The dog ran into the cabin. Derek closed the front door and looked over at Stiles. His eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, his fingers flexed on his stomach, he had on a worn-out Stanford shirt. He was just a college kid.

Shutting off the living room light, Derek settled on the couch, Odie jumped up beside him and leaned his head on Derek's chest. As Derek drifted off, his mind swirled with cognac-brown eyes and soft skin under his fingertips.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun woke him up as it shone through the living room window onto his face. He rubbed his blurry eyes and sat up.

Odie was gone from the couch and Stiles was gone from the bed. The events of last night were a foggy memory. For a second he thought maybe he’d had a vivid dream about a stranger. But the man's scent was everywhere and his heart was beating in Derek’s ears.

Outside the window Stiles leaned against the porch railing with his back to Derek. He wondered how long the man had been awake and why he didn’t hear any of the commotion. He wasn’t usually such a heavy sleeper. The smallest noises woke him from a deep sleep most nights.

Derek got up and refilled Odie’s food bowl before turning on the coffee machine. Making extra that morning. Leaving out the only two coffee cups he had on the counter.

He shoved on his shoes he used for work around the property. The animals expected consistency whether or not there was a stranger on Derek’s porch.

When he walked outside Stiles turned his head slightly. In between his fingers was a lit cigarette. The bruise on his cheekbone a dark purple-black and the split on his lip had scabbed over during the night.

Stiles nodded at him, looking back to where Odie ran in circles, chasing his own tail. “He’s been doing this for a while.”

“He’s still pretty young,” Derek said. 

“Thanks for last night.” Stiles took a drag from the cigarette. 

Derek stood beside him, leaning his hands on the old railing, the wood rough against his skin. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore... and stupid... thankfully I don’t think I have a concussion.”

Derek nodded.

“That car was my only way across the country, -” Stiles stubbed out the cigarette and placed the butt on the railing, next to two others - “so, I’m fucked.”

He pulled out a pack from his pocket and put another cigarette between his lips. Lighting it, his cheeks sucked in with a breath. Derek looked away.

He didn’t like the smell of cigarettes. They were too strong, almost choked him, the chemicals burning his nose and throat. But Stiles seemed anxious, so he said nothing.

“Where were you heading?” Derek asked.

“The west coast.”

“The only towing company in town isn’t open until tomorrow... you can stay here again tonight.” Derek offered before rationale could kick in.

“I – uh –” Stiles rubbed the back of his thumb across his upturned nose – “yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

“I have to feed the animals, but I’ll be back in a few,” Derek said. “There’s coffee made if you want it.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said.

Derek walked down the steps, Odie pushing against his legs as they walked the trail back to the barn. Carrying out the morning routine he’d settled into over the years.

* * *

So far the plan was all going to shit. He should’ve had the alpha in his trunk. Should’ve been nine hours in on the seventeen-hour drive back to Beacon Hills. But here he was with a bashed-up face, no car, and relying on the one person he was warned about. The biggest fuck up of the plan was _Derek_.

The kindness. The hospitality. His gentleness. Certainly not the behavior he was told to expect from the so-called ruthless alpha. Trained to expect. How could Stiles drag him back to Beacon Hills and offer him up to the Argents when he didn’t seem capable of hurting anyone?

There was the Argent’s code and there was Stiles’ own code... this didn’t match up with either one.

He watched as the alpha opened the barn doors, walking into the dark building.

It'd been hard to track him down. Took months. The only thing that linked a Hale to the area was an old bill of sale for a Camaro. It had been registered to Derek’s sister when he sold it a couple years ago. He couldn’t cover it up. Stiles had looked into all the men with the name Derek in Northern Wyoming hoping to get lucky. Finally coming across _Derek Wilson_.

Thirty-two years old, popping into existence nine years ago, with no other information. A fake identity, stolen social security number from a dead guy. There wasn’t much else to find, his bank account was linked to a shell corporation within another shell corporation. Some offshore account bullshit. Nothing financial that Stiles could make sense of or follow.

A couple days ago, Stiles had drove to town and watched from afar. Sure enough, Derek Wilson from butt-fuck Wyoming was Derek Hale from Beacon Hills.

He looked around the property. An old barn stood a good fifty feet back from the cabin, its red paint peeling, revealing discolored wood underneath. The thick forest growing right up to the barn’s west side, along to the back edge of the cabin, meeting the forest that shielded the property from the road.

Derek walked out of the barn, two buckets in his hands, Odie following right on his heels. Two horses stood around in the sprawling field near the barn. The cinnamon brown one eager at the fence as Derek made his way over.

Derek put down the buckets and opened the gate, Odie sprinted towards the other horse, a deep midnight black. The horse shuffled around, sniffing at Odie as the dog rubbed himself over its legs.

Stiles didn’t know much about horses, or really any animal for that matter, but it was strange watching Odie with the horse. He didn’t think they’d get along that well.

He finished off his cigarette and forced himself not to pull out another. Instead, focusing on Derek as he pet the brown horse’s nose and poured a bucket of what Stiles assumed was food into another bucket attached to the wooden fence. The horse abandoned Derek in favor of breakfast.

Derek carried the other bucket over to the shelter in the middle of the field, it only had three walls and a roof, the black horse joining him. Derek poured the food into a bucket on the shelter wall. Whistling at Odie as he walked back out of the gate, locking it behind him.

With the little knowledge Stiles had about farm life and owning horses he assumed it didn’t give much time to be running around the country committing murders and biting innocents.

Derek gave him a nod as he noticed Stiles watching. Stiles lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave and let his resolve to not smoke another cigarette crumble. Pulling out his pack and lighting another smoke as Derek went back into the barn.

He was almost through his cigarette by the time Derek came back out.

The alpha walked towards the cabin. Stopping near a small doghouse in the shade beside the cabin, he refilled a bowl of water with a hose, before he looked up at Stiles on the porch.

“You do this every morning?” Stiles asked.

“Like clockwork,” Derek said, coming around to the porch steps. “The animals expect it.”

Stiles nodded.

Derek looked down at the cigarette in his hands and back up at his face. “I was going to make some breakfast, then I could drive you to your car? If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Stiles said. “I could use a change of clothes.” And his gun, just in case. He felt too vulnerable without it. No matter how innocent Derek seemed, he was still an alpha after all.

Derek walked into the cabin, the door left open.

Fog drifted across the grass as the sun rose over the trees in the distant horizon, golden light casting the land in warmth. Even in the early morning he could feel the heat of the coming day.

Stiles stubbed out his smoke and walked into the cabin.

Derek sat at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee as he watched Stiles. Not warily, like a werewolf on the run might do, but curiously like he was interested in the man who crashed his car into a fucking tree.

Stiles found the garbage bin in the kitchen and chucked his finished cigarettes. He didn’t want to be the smoker that just dropped his butts wherever. Just because he had the disgusting habit didn’t mean everyone else had to deal with it.

“Got any sugar or something?” Stiles asked as he poured himself a coffee.

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

“That’s fine, I can choke this down.” He sat across from Derek at the small table. His face twisted up at the first bitter sip. Without it he'd get a headache from lack of caffeine. Another pain in the ass addiction. “So, how long have you lived here?”

If he was trapped in Wyoming he might as well see what information he could get.

“Almost ten years.”

“Ten years?” Stiles pursed his lips.

A lot longer than he expected. That was right around the time Laura died. He'd known Derek was in the area nine years ago. Hadn’t thought he settled permanently though.

“Yeah... I just needed to get away and found this town...” Derek shrugged. “Met some good people, decided to stay.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“California,” Derek said.

Stiles leaned back in the chair. “You ever go back?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“I haven’t left this area in the past ten years,” Derek said. "Nothing left for me back there."

Stiles looked down at the water-stained table. Just a couple months ago, Gerard had said there was an alpha causing issues in the Beacon County area. Derek Hale back for revenge. _Building a pack._

Before that they’d tracked him all over the states for the past ten years. Violent attacks. Dozens of hunters dead. At least that’s what they claimed. Now Derek was saying he’s been here the whole time? Living peacefully away from it all?

Nothing in his body language or facial expressions indicated he was lying. Plus, why would he? There was no reason to believe that Stiles was fishing for information. Quickly Stiles was realizing he'd made a mistake. A big fucking mistake.

“Did you go to Stanford?” Derek asked, nodding to Stiles’ shirt.

“Do I seem like the type of douchebag that wears the shirt of a school I never attended?”

Derek chuckled, dipping his chin down. “So, you’re smart?” Derek asked, looking up through a thick fan of eyelashes.

Stiles laughed almost bitterly. Not as smart as he thought he was before coming here. He knew the Argents lied... about a lot of things, but this, _the Hale alpha_... he should’ve known.

“Is anyone who spends hundreds of thousands on education really that smart?” Stiles quirked an eyebrow.

Derek’s eyes shone with amusement. “There’s worse things you could spend your money on.” He stood up, heading towards the fridge and grabbing out a bowl of eggs.

As Derek made breakfast, Stiles wandered around the cabin. It was quiet. A few chirps from birds here and there, the odd hum of summer insects, Odie's nails against the floor. Not like the city. Stiles' thoughts were loud and he needed a distraction.

“You ever go to college?” Stiles asked.

Derek didn’t look over from where he stood at the stove. “Didn’t even finish high school.”

Stiles read the titles of the books on the shelf underneath the living room window. There were a lot of literature novels. The type Stiles hated reading in high school.

“Doesn’t look like it slowed you down.”

Surprisingly, mixed in with the literature novels were mysteries, old and new. Along with a few titles that sounded borderline romance novel like, not the pornographic type, just the ones with cheesy storylines about girl-meets-boy and they fall dramatically in love, willing to die for each other, and all that bullshit that made Stiles cringe.

The only thing in the place that looked new was the tanned leather couch. The floorboards scuffed to all hell. A worn-out woven rug underneath the coffee table. A small old fridge next to wood counters that’d seen better days. An antique gas stove that would probably catch a couple thousand if sold to the right rich white person.

Nothing personal indicating anything about his life before Wyoming. Or even his life now.

“You hunt?” Stiles gestured to the pump shotgun. By the looks of it Stiles would say it was probably an old Remington 870 Wingmaster. A twelve gauge. Held four rounds. 

Derek turned away from the stove. “I use it to scare away wild animals from the property.”

Still didn’t make perfect sense. He thought alphas had some control over other animals or something.

“What kind of animals?”

“Foxes, coyotes... wolves sometimes... bears.”

“Bears?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, mainly black bears... but there’s the odd grizzly.”

“Aren’t those ones really big and aggressive?” Stiles moved back to the table. He could handle coyotes and wolves... that’s what he’d been trained to do... bears were a different story.

“Yeah. Don’t worry though, they rarely come up to the cabin.”

Derek put a plate down in front of him. His stomach growled at the sight of the scrambled eggs and two pieces of toast.

“But they’ve come near the cabin before?”

Derek turned back to the counter. “Yeah. I came home once and there was a grizzly up on the porch, trying to get in –” Derek sat down across from him with his own plate and placed a bowl of berries between them – “a couple more minutes and he probably would’ve.” His lips twitching with a smile as he looked up at Stiles. "They’re smart.”

“What?” Stiles squeaked. He looked around. “I’m not even safe in here?”

“There’s the gun.” Derek nodded towards the door.

That wouldn't stop an alpha werewolf. But it'd probably slow him down. Stiles smeared the jam across his toast.

"Did you make this?" he asked, gesturing towards the mason jar on the table.

Derek shook his head. "A friend does, she gives me a couple jars and I give her fresh eggs."

"You have chickens?"

"Yeah, just for eggs though."

Stiles nodded and took a bite of the toast. After living out of his car for the past three days and surviving off of peanut butter sandwiches, the breakfast tasted like a four-course meal at a high-class restaurant.

The jam reminded him of when he used to help his mom pick strawberries. They'd pick baskets and baskets full. Making jam, pies, freezing bags of them for in the winter. His dad would come home from work and always eat a spoonful of the fresh jam. Sneaking some to Stiles when his mom wasn't looking. Not that she didn't know.

They finished breakfast and it was strangely _normal_. They were strangers. Completely different from each other but their conversation came easily.

Stiles washed the dishes while Derek showered. If Stiles had any doubts of whether or not he found the right Derek, it disappeared as soon as he came out of the bathroom with just his jeans on and Stiles saw the tattoo. The Hale pack symbol.

They headed out to Stiles' car. Assessing the damage now that there was daylight.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Derek said. He was crouched down, looking at where the front end was smashed against the tree. 

Stiles put his hands on his hips. “Salvageable?”

“Fred’s a decent mechanic, might cost a lot though.”

While Derek looked closer at the front end, Stiles shoved his backpack into the half full duffel bag. He’d have to deal with it later.

“Do you have a phone?” Derek asked as they drove back to his place. “Otherwise I’ll have to drive you into town tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I got one, just need the charging cable from my bag.” The phone sat on the coffee table of the cabin, completely dead, probably a dozen missed calls and texts.

The cabin wasn’t visible from the road. A long dirt driveway with a thick forest all around, breaking away as they got closer to the cabin. Derek parked the truck and Odie pulled against the chain next to his doghouse.

“I have things to do around the barn,” Derek said, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “But feel free to have a shower... you’ve got about twenty minutes of hot water.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said. He hopped out of the truck and reached over the back to grab his bag.

Derek’s hand already on the other side.

“I got it.” Stiles flashed him a smile.

They went their separate ways, Derek letting Odie off the leash and walking towards the barn while Stiles headed back into the cabin.

Like the rest of the place, the bathroom needed a renovation. The tile flooring was cracked. Dirty beyond what could be cleaned. The shower was barely big enough for him, he wondered how Derek managed to fit. The tiling on the shower wall used to be white. Now it had stains of yellow and brown, little cracks that looked like spiderwebs.

But the water pressure was heavenly. Surprising for a little cabin in the middle of nowhere. Having indoor plumbing was a luxury he’d taken for granted until the forest became his bathroom.

He washed the grease and dirt and airbag dust from his hair. The feeling of his fingers scratching against his filthy scalp almost enough to make him hard. It’d been four days since he last got a chance to shower. Driving through the night from Beacon Hills, not looking back, not even chancing a stop for gas until he crossed state borders.

Derek was still gone when he got out of the shower. Plugging in his phone, he set it on the kitchen table. At the very least, he needed to let them know he was alive and had made contact with Derek.

Stiles took Derek's absence as an opportunity to look for anything he could be hiding.

Nothing in the cupboards or books. Under the bed was empty, just a clump of dust rolling around, and the side table drawer had normal bedside table things in it. There was a square cut out in the ceiling, probably an attic. Maybe there was something up there. He couldn’t get to it without drawing attention.

If he was going to survive this, he’d have to play the part. Innocent college kid. Stuck in Wyoming. Normal, with no knowledge of the supernatural, relying on a kind stranger for help. And even though he’d yet to outright lie, it was all a deception.

Instead of sitting in the sweltering cabin, Stiles pulled on his old converses and walked outside, following a trail beat down in the grass.

He joined Derek around the side of the barn that faced the horses' field. The alpha was in a large fenced area, chickens pecked at the ground. A couple of them following Derek as he collected eggs into a basket.

The expanse of the property stretched on behind the barn. Rolling fields of grass and what looked to be wheat growing wildly. Until it reached a forest and a mountain range raised up into the sky.

“How often do you collect eggs?” Stiles leaned back on the fence.

“Twice a day.” Derek came out of the coop, locking the gate behind him.

“Wow, really?”

“Yeah, they lay at different times so I collect in the morning and then again in the afternoon... I get about a dozen every couple of days usually,” Derek said.

“What are the horses’ names?” Stiles turned around and watched them in the field.

“The black one is Rhythm and the brown one is Dakota.” Derek leaned on the fence beside Stiles. “Dakota came with the property, she’s older and tamer. I just got Rhythm a couple months ago... she’s still pretty wild, won’t let anyone but me ride her.”

“Well she’s got good taste.” He couldn’t stop the comment from slipping out.

Derek dipped his chin in response and his cheeks went pink.

The pictures he’d seen of Derek were all from his high school years and they didn’t do him justice. His chest and arms muscles bulky from what Stiles guessed was years of physical labor. His skin golden brown from the summer sun and a thick beard. His smile soft and charming.

Derek put down the basket of eggs and whistled towards the horses. Dakota trotted over, making a strange noise and Stiles flinched. Not sure what the horse was about to do.

Derek chuckled. “That’s a nicker, it’s like she’s saying hi.” Derek pulled a carrot out of his back pocket and held it out towards Stiles. “You can feed her if you want.” Derek ran his other hand up her nose. “She’s gentle.”

Stiles took the carrot a little nervously, he’d never been this close to a horse. He lifted the carrot over the fence. Dakota snorted and grabbed the carrot with her soft lips. Crunching loudly as she chewed. 

Derek whistled again, but Rhythm kept running around. He shrugged. “She’s stubborn.” He handed Stiles another carrot. “Which means she doesn’t get her treat.”

Stiles fed Dakota the second carrot. Cautiously rubbing his hand against the short, velvet fur of her cheek. “So, chickens, horses...” Stiles looked at Odie running around with Rhythm. “Dog. Must keep you pretty busy.”

“They do,” Derek said. He picked up the basket of eggs. “I’m just going to run these into the cabin.”

* * *

Stiles looked at everything with awe as if he'd never seen an animal before. His brightness and wonder was refreshing. He followed Derek back around the barn to the vegetable and fruit garden built next to the workshop.

“Apple trees?” Stiles asked, pointing to the five trees growing separately from the forest.

“Two of them are, one is a pear tree, the last two are peach trees,” Derek said.

He opened the gate to the garden. The first year he had the garden he didn’t have a fence. He’d lost almost all the vegetables and berries to wild animals, it didn’t bother him, but he would like to reap _some_ of the benefits if he went through all the work. The year after he built a sturdy garden enclosed in the same wired fencing he used for the coop.

“Peach trees? In Wyoming?” Stiles asked, following Derek into the garden.

“Yeah, it gets hot enough here.”

“I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.”

“It should start getting peaches in a couple of weeks,” Derek said. He turned on the valve of the rain water barrels. Still left over from the heavy rains they’d gotten in the spring and the few rain showers they had since.

Stiles walked around the garden, avoiding getting in Derek’s way as he watered, bending down to read the row markers.

Plenty of the vegetables had already grown to the point of harvesting. Before moving to Wyoming, Derek didn’t think he’d enjoy this lifestyle, but now he couldn’t imagine his life differently. Didn’t want to imagine his life differently. He finally let go of all the _what-could-have-beens_ and just accepted what it’d become.

There was a crunch and he turned his head. Stiles’ shoulders raised sheepishly, a snap pea half eaten in his hands.

Derek chuckled. “Those just came in enough to harvest.”

“They’re good,” Stiles said. “Want me to pick the ready stuff for you?”

“Sure.” A little surprised by the offer. “There’s probably an empty basket near the gate.”

Stiles nodded, turning around.

While Derek finished watering and weeding, Stiles picked the vegetables that were ready, piling them in the basket. They worked in silence as the sun progressed across the sky, getting closer to noon.

“I’m going to head to town for a bit,” Derek said as he closed the gate behind Stiles, securing the latch.

“Cool if I stay here?”

Derek took the basket from Stiles’ hand, careful not to touch the man’s long fingers. “Yeah, need anything?” He shifted the basket into the crux of his elbow.

"A couple packs of smokes if you don't mind.” Stiles pulled out his pack and grabbed out the last cigarette before handing the empty package to Derek. “My wallet’s in the cabin.”

Derek put the pack in his pocket. As they walked between the barn and the horses’ field, Stiles was the calmest he’d been since last night, his anxiety finally seemed to have edged away.

“Odie!” Derek shouted across the field to where Odie still ran around, terrorizing Dakota as she tried to drink from the trough.

The dog came running full force towards them, wiggling under the fence and jumping up on Derek.

"Odie, down." Derek pushed his hand against Odie's nose. No matter how many times he tried to train that into the dog, it didn't stick. Eventually he just gave up, Odie was energetic and friendly, not a bad kind of dog to have. Being the only person around Odie most days he let the bad habits slide. 

He chained Odie up to the dog house and put the basket of vegetables in on the counter, grabbing his wallet and keys.

Stiles handed him some cash. "Thanks," he said, moving out to the porch to sit on one of the chairs.

Derek grabbed an empty coffee tin from the recycling in the kitchen and brought it out, leaving the door open behind him. “For your cigarettes,” Derek said, waving the tin around.

Stiles smiled. “Thanks.”

He put the tin on the railing. "You can grab whatever food or drinks you want," Derek said. "I shouldn't be too long."

Stiles nodded not looking up from his phone. "Okay." 

When Derek got back, Stiles paced in front of the cabin, phone up to his ear and cigarette between his fingers.

“Will you listen? I’m telling you, it's not at all what you think,” Stiles said. He glanced over at Derek’s truck and turned around.

Derek tried not to listen to the conversation but everything else was quiet and Stiles was the loudest thing around. He stayed in the truck and turned on the radio for the first time since he’d bought it.

“I’m trying.” Stiles’ voice rose up over the music. “Don’t let him do that.” Stiles flicked the ash off the cigarette. “He’s my best friend, I know what he’s like... you don’t have to tell me.” Stiles let out a breath of smoke. “Yeah, okay. Tell him I say hi.” A pause. “Yeah, bye.” Stiles hung up the phone, sitting down on the front steps.

Derek shut off the truck and got out with the bag of groceries in his arms. Odie pulled against his chain, itching to get free.

“Everything alright?”

Stiles faked a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.” It wasn’t a total lie, his heart-rate didn’t change, but his mouth pulled down into a pout. The fake smile sliding off his face.

“Want a beer?” Derek asked as he walked up the steps.

“Sure.”

Derek put away the groceries. Since he had to pick up feed for the animals, he dropped by the grocery store on his way home so he’d have something to make them for dinner. Placing the bag of sugar next to the coffee maker for Stiles in the morning, he opened the fridge and grabbed out two beers, popping off their caps.

He handed Stiles the beer and the new packs of cigarettes.

“Thanks.” Stiles smiled.

Odie whined incessantly as Derek got closer, letting him off the chain. The dog went wild, jumping up on Derek, running circles before bee-lining it for Stiles on the steps. He licked at Stiles’ face, the man laughing as he pushed Odie away.

Derek sat down next to Stiles, their bare arms brushing, Stiles’ skin hot from the midday heat.

“Sometimes I wish I could afford to run away and buy a cabin in the middle of nowhere,” Stiles said.

“It gets lonely at times.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Stiles took a sip of his beer, a new cigarette already burning between his fingers. “You know when you try everything to make things right? Do what you’re supposed to do and things still get fucked up?”

“Yeah,” Derek said with a small laugh. “More than you know.” He watched Rhythm run around the field. He’d have to get her out at some point.

“Is that why you came here?” Stiles looked at him. His expression open and questioning.

“Kind of...” Derek took a sip of his beer. “It all got to be too much, so I just left.”

“And never looked back?”

“Basically.”

Derek tried to shut down the line of questioning. It was getting personal too quick. He hadn't even known Stiles for twenty-four hours. Not even Boyd and Erica knew the full story, just the rumors floating around. 

“Seems like you landed on your feet okay.” Stiles leaned back against the steps, his long body stretching out.

Derek imagined what it’d be like to get Stiles in his bed. How he’d respond to Derek’s touch, what his body looked like under his clothes, what noises Derek could draw from him.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, the bottle tilted up to his lips, catching Derek mid-stare.

Derek licked his lips and looked back at the horses. “Want to go for a ride?”

Stiles choked on his beer. “ _What?_ ”

Derek's lip twitched with a smirk. “The horses.” He tilted his head towards the field. 

“Oh.” Now Stiles’ cheeks were the one to go red. He wiped his mouth. “I don’t know, I’ve never rode a horse before.”

“It’s easy, Dakota’s calm.”

“I guess I could give it a shot, why not?”

They had a quick lunch and Stiles helped him carry out the saddles and reins from the barn. His nose scrunching up from the smell when they first stepped in. The horses didn’t live in the barn, not during summer, but the smell soaked in. Along with the hay and feed. The barn was old, musty, at some point it was probably going to need a total redo. Something Derek didn’t mind the prospect of. Maybe he’d redo the cabin while he was at it.

Stiles smoked while Derek got the horses ready, Rhythm nickering in anticipation.

He’d been skeptical to buy a place with a horse, having had no experience with them. In the end, he figured he could just sell Dakota if it was too much work. Quickly he picked up the basics and found it relaxing. Almost therapeutic. He spent a lot of years taking care of the horses on bad days, even starting to talk to them about things that'd happened. Under his breath, barely loud enough for his own ears to hear, but it helped. In a strange way it lightened the grief. 

He finished up the reins on Rhythm.

“Ready to go cowboy?” Stiles pushed himself off the fence, stubbing out his cigarette and putting it back in the package. 

The strong smell of nicotine invading Derek's nose as he got close. In the sunlight, Derek could see dark flecks through his honey-brown irises that hadn't been evident in the dull light of the cabin the night before. 

Stiles turned his full attention to Derek, staring at him expectantly. 

Derek cleared his throat and looked at Dakota. _Right. Teaching Stiles how to ride a horse._

“What you want to do is put your left foot in this stirrup and then grab this strap here –” Derek pointed to a strap on the other side of the saddle – “but you’re mainly using your leg to boost you up... biggest thing is don’t pull the horn otherwise the saddle will slide.”

Stiles nodded, stepping closer to Dakota. His hands shook as he reached for the saddle and a faint smell of anxiety rolled off him.

“Dakota's used to this, so try and relax into it because when you’re nervous, she’ll get nervous.”

Stiles bit the cut on his lip. “Alright.”

Derek moved to the front of Dakota and held the reins. Running a soothing hand over her nose.

“That’s a good girl,” he said.

Stiles put his foot in the stirrup and tried to lift himself up, but his other leg hit Dakota’s side and she huffed, shifting her body. Stiles fell back to the ground, landing on his other foot.

Derek ran his hand over Dakota's cheek. “Just try again.”

Stiles did it again, his biceps flexing, and got up on Dakota rather ungracefully but he was sitting and seemed stable enough. He looked uneasily down at Derek, biting at the scab on his lip.

“Let me get on Rhythm and I’ll show you what to do.” He handed Stiles the reins.

Rhythm stirred as Derek got close. Moving her head around with what Derek had come to recognize as excitement. He smoothed his thumb over the white line of fur running up the middle her face. “Okay girl, you’re going to be good? Right?”

She blew out a loud exhale and he smiled at her attitude.

Derek lifted himself up and over easily, Stiles watching his every move.

They ran through a quick tutorial and then Derek took the lead, bringing Stiles through the fields and towards the forest on the northwest part of his property. It stayed pretty flat and easy. Heading directly north led up to the mountains and could be trickier to maneuver.

He had to keep a tight hold on Rhythm because she wanted to take off. Which he usually let her do, but there was no way Dakota could keep up or Stiles could ride a horse at full speed yet. He kept having to remind Stiles to get Dakota moving a little faster. She’d drag her feet if they let her.

Odie ran around, leisurely following them, panting with excitement from the new smells and sights.

Cool air brushed across his hot skin as they crossed into the forest. The fresh smell of wet dirt rising up from the ground. Derek soaked it all in. Missing it after just a couple days of not getting out.

“Do you do this often?” Stiles asked as Derek dropped back beside him.

“Yeah, Rhythm goes stir crazy pretty fast... Dakota, I drag out about once a week, she doesn’t really like it as much.”

“I’ve never even owned a dog.” Stiles looked over at Derek, shadows passing over his face.

For a while they rode in silence. Derek wondering how it’d all changed so fast. Yesterday, he was alone. Now Stiles was beside him on Dakota, riding through the forest of his property. 

Half an hour in, Stiles’ mood shifted. Aside from biting the scab open to the point it started to bleed, Derek smelled the change from contentment to anxiety rather quickly.

“Mind if we head back?” Stiles asked. “I’m still pretty sore from yesterday.”

“Sure.” Derek called for Odie and they turned around.

As soon as they hit the flat fields he let Rhythm break into a gallop, leaving Stiles far behind with Dakota. Odie tried to keep up, barking after them. Any time he rode like this it reminded him of running through the preserve, racing his sisters, trying to find his parents by scent alone. One of the ways he learned to use his senses and one of the ways his mom made them burn off their energy.

They got close to the horses’ field and he pulled on the reins.

“Woah, girl,” Derek said. He turned her around and had her run back towards Stiles.

Stiles laughed. “Wow, I’m glad Dakota is not up for that challenge.” He patted her neck. “She’s more my speed.”

Derek let out a winded breath.

“Ever do the whole _Dances With Wolves_ scene?” Stiles asked. “You know –” he let go of the reins and held his arms out on either side and leaned his head back, his chest and neck stretching into one long line – “that scene?”

Derek didn't know the scene he was talking about, but he did know that he wanted to suck on the skin underneath Stiles’ jaw, bite his way across the paleness, marking him. But Stiles was young and Derek was helping him out, he'd hate to make a move and Stiles only reciprocate because he felt like he owed something to Derek.

Stiles sat up and grabbed the reins. “Eh?”

Derek tried to remember the question. “That’s how you fall off a horse.”

Stiles pouted. “A man can dream.”

As Derek prepped dinner Stiles sat on the porch, absently petting Odie.

“No TV, no internet, not even a phone,” Stiles said as Derek came out with the food. “What do you do for fun?”

Derek lit the barbecue, throwing on the meat and potatoes first. “You don’t need those things to have fun.”

“Then what do you do for fun?” Stiles asked again.

Sitting down on the old lawn chair next to Stiles made him think he should probably get new furniture for his porch. Not that he had guests over often.

“I spend a lot of time outdoors, doing things around the property, riding, fishing, visiting people in town.” Derek pushed his hands through his hair. It’d been a long, weird day and he felt a strange tiredness in his body. “It’s a simpler life than what most people have nowadays.”

“Seems nice.”

“Can’t complain.”

“Mind if I put on some music?” Stiles asked, pulling out his phone.

“Go ahead.” Derek pet Odie as the dog settled between his knees, resting his head in Derek’s lap.

“What do you like?”

“Whatever, I don’t listen to music.”

“You don’t listen to music?” Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Ever?”

“Not unless someone else puts it on.”

“Why not?”

Paige playing the cello. His mom singing along to the radio while making Sunday night dinners. Laura blasting music while driving him home from school. His dad attempting to teach him the piano and eventually giving up, teaching Cora instead. Any time he listened to music, he couldn’t escape the thoughts of his family. Just like a phone reminded him that he had no one to call.

“I just don’t,” he said instead.

“You know Fleetwood Mac at least?” Stiles put on an old song and set his phone on the railing.

“I don't live under a rock,” Derek said.

“They were my mom’s favorite... and CCR.” Stiles chewed on his thumbnail. “She died when I was a kid.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek stood up and checked the food on the barbecue.

They weren’t so different.

Quietly, Stiles sang along to the song, standing up and dancing with Odie. Derek leaned on the railing and watched with a smile on his face. After tomorrow, he didn’t know if he’d ever see Stiles again. Which made him a little sad for no reason.

“Come on Odie, sing it!” Stiles laughed.

Odie barked in response.

“Close enough,” Stiles said, patting the dog's head.

They ate at the picnic table on the lawn and sat there for a long time afterwards, just listening to music and drinking a few beers.

Stiles making comments here and there. Asking Derek some questions about the property and the town. He was talkative, which was good because Derek wasn’t a great conversationalist. When the bugs came out Stiles hit his legs and arms, asking how Derek didn’t find it _annoying as all hell_.

By the time they went to bed, the moon was high in the sky, getting close to full.

Stiles insisted on sleeping on the couch, even though Derek offered the bed again. Derek handed Stiles a pillow from the bed and an extra blanket – not that he’d need it, even without the sun the air was still hot and humid in the cabin.

“Thanks Derek, you turned a shitty day into a pretty good one," Stiles said from the couch.

Derek smiled, lying in the bed that smelled of Stiles.


	3. Chapter 3

It was pushing late afternoon by the time Fred got Stiles’ car out of the ditch and back to the garage. Stiles threw his duffel bag in the truck bed and patted Odie on the head before Derek drove him to town.

“Well... time to assess the damage... financially.” Stiles winced.

They got out of the truck and walked towards the garage. The door opened with a chime of the bell. It was loud in the shop, a radio blasted from the corner, a couple mechanics yelled at each other. Machines whirring as they worked on the vehicles.

Fred sat behind the counter reading a newspaper. He looked over his glasses at the two of them.

“So?” Stiles asked. “How much?”

“Haven’t fully assessed it yet, the estimate should be done tomorrow.” Fred lowered the newspaper. “But is it worth it to you?”

“It's the only car I have.”

“Sometimes pouring money into a car doesn’t make sense,” Fred said. "In this case it makes more sense financially to just buy a new one." 

“Well if you know any cars for sale around here that can go across the country for less than what it’s going to cost to fix mine then by all means.” Stiles held up his hand.

Fred pursed his lips.

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” Stiles leaned on the counter beside Derek. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Really depends on parts, I can’t get everything at the local store so it’ll have to be shipped in... you’re looking at a week or longer.”

“Great," Stiles groaned. "Any places to stay in this town?”

“Just one, Firefly Bed and Breakfast on the outskirts,” Fred said.

They stepped out into the hot afternoon sun, Derek’s shirt sticking to his back as they walked over to his truck.

Stiles grabbed his bag from the back. “Thanks for all your help,” he said, holding his hand out.

Derek shook his hand, the first time touching Stiles since dragging him out of the car.

“If you need anything over the next week, you know where to find me,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded.

“Need a lift anywhere?” Derek asked, not ready to leave him yet.

“Nah, I’m gonna sort things out here first... I’m sure everything is within walking distance anyways.”

Derek chuckled. “Yeah main street is just a block that way, –” Derek pointed north – “good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Derek got in his truck and didn’t look back at Stiles standing in the parking lot. Already, it felt weird not having him around. Even though they’d only spent a day and a half together.

He went to the hardware store and picked up supplies to repair a section of fence he noticed was damaged. Then he grabbed a case of beer. He couldn’t get drunk but liked the taste anyways. He drove twenty minutes south to the lake and walked a trail for a while. Being in nature always helped to clear his mind and he tried to forget about Stiles.

The man would be in town for at least another week. Derek had no means of contacting him though. Maybe he’d swing by the Firefly later in the week, see if Stiles wanted to go for a drink, some dinner. He blamed it on boredom. After years in a small town, Derek wanted something new. And for some reason he found Stiles more interesting than most people he met.

The bar was pretty empty when he went in for an early dinner. Just a couple regulars at the bar and a few tourists at the tables, their skin bright red with sunburns. Country music played overhead and Derek could hear the cooks in the kitchen telling crude jokes. He was – pleasantly – surprised to see Stiles sitting in a booth along the back wall.

Sally gave him a big smile as he walked in, waving from where she stood at a booth. She and Beth took over the odd night so Erica and Boyd could have time off.

Sitting down on the ripped vinyl stool, he shot Beth a smile over the bar. She was around Derek's age and pretty in a down-to-earth small-town way. When she first started working at the bar she used to flirt with him all the time until she realized that he wasn't interested in a relationship. 

Beth poured him a beer and set it down in front of him. “How’re you tonight?” she asked.

“Good, you?” Derek’s attention was split between Beth and Stiles in the booth.

Stiles had yet to see him, he was on the phone with a half drunken beer in front of him.

“Can’t complain. Want any food?” she asked.

“Not yet.” Derek took a sip of the beer, nodding at Larry down the bar.

The old drunk huffed and looked away. They never clicked. Probably due to the fact that Derek didn’t hide who he slept with and Larry was the biggest homophobe in town.

“Nothing available?” Stiles sighed. “Well where am I supposed to stay?”

The music in the bar was just a touch too loud for Derek to be able to hear the response of the person on the phone.

“Okay thanks anyways.” Stiles hung up.

Derek grabbed his beer and stood up. Unable to stop himself from walking over to the booth.

Stiles' eyes widened as he looked up at Derek. “Are you stalking me?” he teased.

“You’re in my town remember? Can I sit?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, by all means.” Stiles gestured to the empty bench across from him.

Derek slid into the booth. “How’d it go once I left?”

“Well. I’m broke... the car’s not ready for at least a week... and apparently the only place to stay in this town is booked.” Stiles chugged the rest of his beer.

Derek looked away from his throat.

“Why is it full? Like, what is there to do in this town that it could possibly be full on a _Monday_?” Stiles paused and looked at Derek. “No offense.”

“You could stay at my place.” Derek offered before his mind caught up with his mouth.

Stiles eyed him. “For tonight?”

“For however long you need, the bed and breakfast isn’t cheap. All the other places to stay are towns away.”

There wasn’t even an ulterior motive, Derek genuinely wanted to help Stiles out. It’d be nice to have someone around and so far, Stiles had been good company.

“That’s... really nice, but I couldn't ask that of you.”

"It's no problem, I understand if it's uncomfortable though," Derek said.

Stiles' gaze ran over Derek's face as if the man was inspecting him. Deciding whether he could trust Derek or not. "I - okay, what the hell." Stiles pushed his empty glass to the edge of the table. “At least let me buy you dinner.”

Derek smiled. “Sure.”

Sally came over to the table. “Hey Derek, good to see ya," she said. Turning to Stiles she picked up the empty glass. "Can I get you anything else?”

“Another beer and we’ll order some food too.”

“I’ll just have the Cobb salad,” Derek said.

“And for you, hon?” Sally asked, looking at Stiles.

“What’s good?”

“Depends what you feel like... burgers are decent.” Sally didn’t try to sell him on anything.

“Burger’s good with me.”

“Fries on the side?”

“Got any onion rings?”

“Sure do.”

“I’ll have those. Thanks.” Stiles leaned back in the booth. “Do you come here often?” Arching his long neck to see the decorations lining the walls.

Beer signs, singing fish, pictures of locals. Boyd and Erica had basically kept it the same as the previous owners. The only thing they got rid of were the confederate flags, replacing them with the American flag because it gave _small-town vibes_. At least that's what Erica said. She was the business major.

“A couple times a week, I’m friends with the owners.”

They were halfway through their meal when Ruby and Jimmy came in. The regulars calling out their greetings. Ruby's eyes immediately landed on them at the back and she grinned, coming right over. Jimmy following with his hands shoved in his jean pockets.

“Hey Derek, how’s it going?” Ruby asked. Her eyes fell on Stiles. 

“Pretty good,” Derek said. “How are you?”

“Not too shabby, scoot over.” Ruby pushed his shoulder. "Introduce us to your friend."

Jimmy put his hand on her back. “Hun, maybe we should just leave them be.” 

Ruby’s eyes went wide behind her purple glasses. “Oh goodness, did I just interrupt a date?” she asked, holding her hand to her heart.

Stiles laughed. “Nope, you’re all good. Have a seat, I’m Stiles.” He held out his hand.

Ruby shook it and sat down next to Derek. “I’m Ruby, this is my husband Jimmy, don't mind him, he's always a little grumpy.”

Jimmy sighed.

“You can sit next to me.” Stiles slid towards the wall.

Jimmy waved to Sally indicating he wanted the usual before sitting down.

“So, Stiles, what brings you to town?” Ruby asked.

“I was just passing through and got in a car accident. Luckily, Derek found me.”

"He's a good man." Ruby patted Derek’s knee. “Stayed with me in the hospital waiting room for all sixteen hours of Jimmy’s heart surgery and for two weeks afterwards he came by with homemade meals every day... made sure we were all taken care of.”

Derek’s cheeks warmed.

“Wouldn’t ever tell you that himself though,” Ruby said.

Stiles stared at Derek, a small look of surprise in his eyes. “He just offered to take me in for a few days so I can believe it.”

“Oh really.” Ruby smiled at Derek. “Ain’t that something.”

Sally set all their drinks down on the table.

“How are you two doing?” Sally asked, leaning on the edge of the booth.

That started a whole other conversation, Ruby and Sally talking excitedly about the latest episode of a show they both watched.

Stiles winked at Derek over the burger in his hands.

“No way! You did not!” Stiles laughed, slamming down the empty glass of his fourth beer. His face flush from the alcohol.

Derek had switched to water after his second. It looked suspicious for him to knock back a bunch of beers and get in his truck and drive.

“I did... I did.” Ruby laughed. “I was a wild child and there was no taming me.”

He and Jimmy sat quietly in the booth. The other two took up the whole conversation, but Derek didn’t mind, he enjoyed watching them talk.

Jimmy just looked at Ruby with endearment in his eyes. After fifty-two years together they were still in love, even though he spent a lot of time in the bar. But most people in this town spent a lot of time at the bar. There were times Derek wished for what Jimmy and Ruby had. Then the memories of his two failed relationships sprung to mind. Always a reminder of why he shouldn’t bother.

Derek watched Stiles. Animated as he told a story about his college years. Some drinking tradition they had or something. Derek didn’t really pay attention to the words.

Instead he paid attention to his steady heartbeat. The thick eyelashes framing Stiles’ eyes. His long, nimble fingers dancing around. Tapping on the table, waving around in the air, pointing at Ruby when she said something funny. He watched Stiles’ mouth open in a wide grin, the scab pulling tight on his bottom lip. Listened to his laugh ring out in the loud bar. 

Carrying his duffel bag back into the cabin, Stiles chuckled.

“What is it?”

“Just funny how we were strangers on Saturday and now we’re roommates.” Stiles placed his duffel bag down beside Derek’s dresser. “Temporarily.” He tacked on.

Derek smiled. Hanging the keys up and placing his wallet on the shelf of the key rack.

“Yeah." He toed off his good shoes and pulled on the other pair. “I have to go feed the animals.”

“Can I help?” Stiles asked, a curious edge to his voice.

“Sure,” Derek said.

They walked out to the barn together, Odie following along. It was a little later than he usually fed the animals. Dakota and Rhythm were already at the fence, Rhythm making all kind of noises that voiced her displeasure of Derek being late.

“We’ll do the horses first,” Derek said. He opened the door to the feed room and pulled the lid off the garbage bin he kept the feed in.

He could feel Stiles’ gaze on him as he leaned over and scooped out the food, dumping it into the two buckets. Latching the lid back onto the bin, he picked up the buckets and motioned with his head for Stiles to follow him.

They walked through the dark barn lit only by a few bare bulbs to the room he kept the hay in. He could hear the faint scratching of rodents running around as they entered. A problem that most people solved with a barn cat.

He held the buckets out towards Stiles. “Take these and I’ll grab the hay.”

“Horses actually eat hay?” Stiles said as he took the buckets.

Derek's eyebrows rose. “Yeah, what did you think _hay is for horses_ meant?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugged. “That they liked to sleep on it or something... it’s just like dried out grass.”

“They like it.” Derek picked up two flakes of hay and walked out of the room, Stiles right behind him.

Day after day his routines had always just been him and the animals. It was odd having another person with him. But Stiles fit in effortlessly, asking questions, watching Derek with an interested look.

“They’ll fight over food, so I’ve had to separate their buckets,” Derek said as he opened the gate to the horses’ area. “And don’t get too close to Rhythm, she doesn’t like strangers.”

A nervousness buzzed through Stiles.

“Just follow me,” Derek said.

Rhythm stood right next to the gate, nipping at the hay in his arms.

“Hey,” he said. “You know you have to wait.”

She nickered in response, Dakota moving closer.

“Pour one of those into the bucket on the fence.” Derek dropped a flake of hay to the ground and crouched down, pulling the pieces apart.

“Why are you doing that?” Stiles asked. He stood next to Derek now.

“They can choke if you don’t and you have to look for sticks and other items that shouldn’t be in there.” Derek stood up and grabbed the other flake of hay. “Rhythm, girl,” he called.

Rhythm moved away from where she was pressuring Dakota for food.

Stiles eyed her cautiously.

Derek patted her neck as they walked over to the shelter he’d built in the middle of the field. He dropped the second flake of hay and shuffled it apart as Stiles poured the feed into the bucket on the wall.

“Horses kind of freak me out,” Stiles said.

“I’ve noticed.” Derek ran his hand over Rhythm’s side. “They’re actually pretty peaceful, as long as you treat them right.”

They finished with the horses, Derek grabbed the chicken feed and met Stiles outside the coop. The hens weren’t free range, they’d get killed by coyotes and foxes in no time. But they had a large piece of land to roam in during the day and a coop Derek had spent countless hours training them to go into at night.

“Do you name your chickens?” Stiles asked as they walked into the pen.

A few of the hens ran over clucking at the two of them, knowing that the presence of Derek meant food.

“Yeah,” he said, his cheeks heating up. “The golden one with the white on her back is Henrietta and the other golden one is Daphne. The black and white spotted one is June.” He pointed to each hen as he said their names. “One of the white ones is Minnie and the other is Dumpling.”

“Dumpling... like a chicken dumpling?” Stiles asked.

“Yes. Named by my friend.”

Erica thought it was hilarious. Previous names she’d given to hens Derek had were _Nuggets, Noodle Soup, Teriyaki_. He didn't know why he kept letting her name them.

“What’s the dark brown one’s name?” Stiles asked.

“Mother Clucker.”

Stiles laughed. “That’s the best one here.”

“That was also courtesy of my friend,” Derek said. “Watch out for her, she’ll peck you.”

“Your friend or Mother Clucker?”

“The hen.” Derek tilted his head to the side. “But Erica can be a bit... aggressive as well.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Derek held out the bucket for Stiles. “Some of them will come up to you if you want to feed them.”

“This is certainly a different way to spend my night.” Stiles scooped some of the pieces of corn into his hand. He crouched down, Henrietta and Daphne already close by.

Derek crouched down next to him. “What do you do for fun?” he asked, the question was asked of him yesterday but he hadn’t asked Stiles in return.

“I really haven’t had that kind of time in a while,” Stiles said. He laughed softly as Henrietta gently took a few pieces of corn from him.

Dumpling and Daphne stayed away from Stiles, straying towards Derek, taking the corn from his palm.

“But I don’t know, I guess, I hang out with my friends... go drinking...” Stiles looked over at Derek. “I play video games, maybe a little too much, I’m not really that exciting.”

Video games were never something Derek got into as a kid. They never held his attention and he found it frustrating when he couldn’t beat a level. It only took two broken controllers for his parents to cut him off.

Derek smoothed his hand over Daphne’s back.

“You can pet them?” Stiles asked. His mouth falling open. “Chickens are like dogs?”

Derek chuckled. “Yeah, some of them.”

Stiles reached out and ran his hand over June. “Oh my god I’m petting a chicken!”

He was ridiculous. The way his eyes lit up at everything Derek showed him, his incessant questions, his excited exclamations like a child. And yet, ridiculously, Derek liked it.

Derek stood up before he did something stupid like lean over and kiss the man he just offered a place to stay for the week.

He tossed around the food for the hens that didn’t like getting close to people and collected the second batch of eggs from the coop. Around dusk, the hens would all run up into the coop for the night without Derek even having to corral them.

They washed their hands in the cabin and sat on the porch. Drinking beers while Stiles smoked. Johnny Cash played quietly from Stiles’ phone. _Stiles’ dad’s favorite_ , he’d said. Which was a weird coincidence because Johnny Cash had been one of Derek's dad's favorites as well.

“I didn’t realize that Wyoming is actually kind of nice.” Stiles leaned back in the lawn chair.

It was the second night they spent together. And they just seemed to click. Like as if in different circumstances they could’ve been good friends. If life had gone differently for Derek and he didn't have the history of what he had now.

*

Stiles helped with the morning routine. The smell of nicotine mixed with a faint smell of anxiety quickly becoming familiar to Derek.

As Derek made breakfast, Stiles stood out on the porch talking to Fred who’d called with the estimate.

“Oh shit,” Stiles said. “That much?”

“Sorry kid. Still want to go forward with it?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a choice.” Stiles rubbed the back of his head. “I’ll get the money.”

“Alright. I’ll call Monday with an update.”

“Great. Thanks.” Stiles hung up and pulled out a cigarette.

Derek turned his attention back to the eggs in the pan. Not wanting to intrude on the obvious private moment.

He finished the eggs and dished them onto two plates. Putting the toast with jam and some berries on each plate, he carried it out to Stiles on the porch.

The younger man smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

“So?”

“Around five grand.” Stiles looked out at the yard. “Give or take, depending on labor time and surprises.”

“It’ll work out.” Derek sat down on the chair next to Stiles and handed him the plate.

“Yeah.” Stiles clenched his jaw and took the plate. “Sure.”

Derek didn’t know any words to offer the man. Talking had never been a strength of his. Plus offering financial advice when he was sitting with a small fortune in the bank seemed pointless.

“Any plans for today?” Stiles bounced back, switching from defeated to cheery in a second.

“Have to fix the fence, noticed it got damaged, will probably take a bit of time.” Derek watched as Odie wiggled his way under the fence, running up to Rhythm.

At first, he’d been nervous to introduce the two. Rhythm hadn’t done well with people or Dakota. He kept her in a stall for the first week before even attempting to get close enough to bring her out to the field, using his alpha voice the whole way. But for whatever reason the horse that didn’t like anyone, liked Odie.

“This is really good jam by the way,” Stiles said, holding up the piece of toast. “Not too sweet, just enough chunks. Your friend knows what she’s doing.”

Derek smiled. “You could take some with you, when you leave, I’ve got quite a few jars of it.”

“I might just have to take you up on that.”

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted, dropping the hammer to the ground.

Derek paused with the paintbrush on the wood. “What happened?”

Stiles looked up at him, his face twisted with pain. “I hit my thumb.”

Derek bit his lip to keep the smile off his face.

“I see that smirk.” Stiles groaned and laid down in the grass. “It’s making me feel like I’m going to puke.”

When he’d gone out to fix the part of the fence that was broken Stiles asked to help. Derek accepted, not realizing what a pain in the ass it was going to be. Not only did Stiles know nothing about tools or doing work like this, he was also clumsy. Derek had already taken the saw away from him because it was quickly heading towards a missing limb or some other medical emergency and put him to work nailing the new boards in.

Stiles abandoned the project, lying on his side in the long grass and smoked while Derek finished the fence.

“Do you always smoke this much?” Derek asked.

Stiles froze with his hand up at his mouth. “Does it bother you?”

Derek shook his head. It wasn’t pleasant but he didn’t do it in Derek’s cabin. Who was he to say what Stiles could or couldn’t do to his own body?

Stiles wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I – uh started when I was eighteen. It’s a disgusting habit, I know, but it helps with my anxiety.”

From the outside, Stiles seemed like an easy-going college kid. But Derek could sense all the anxiety and stress rolling off him. Obviously, there was more going on. Financial problems if he had to guess.

“Did you have a specific date you were supposed to be on the coast for?” Derek asked, brushing the stain across the wood.

“Not really.” There was a weird hitch in Stiles’ heart-rate, almost like a lie but not quite. “But this certainly messes things up.”

A loud shriek erupted from Stiles as he jumped up, his face twisting into a look of disgust.

Derek stopped painting. “What is it?”

“A spider just crawled up my arm.” Stiles shuddered.

Derek laughed and Stiles glared at him.

“What if it was poisonous?”

“Venomous,” Derek said.

“What?”

“If you eat something and it makes you sick or kills you, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and injects a venom, it’s venomous.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed huff.

“You definitely didn’t grow up in the country, did you?” Derek asked. He went back to staining, watching Stiles out of the corner of his eye.

Stiles put the cigarette between his lips, taking in a long drag. Shaking his head, he blew out the smoke. “A city boy all the way through. If I see a bear I’m so out of here, you’re on your own.”

“I feel like that’d work to my advantage.”

“Ha,” Stiles said sarcastically. “Alright, so I’m not the most physically-abled person to have ever graced the earth, I have other skills.”

“And those are?” Derek finished up staining the new part of the fence.

“Well –” Stiles pursed his lips, hand on his hip – “I can shotgun a beer pretty well.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You don’t know what shotgunning a beer is? Jesus Christ and you corrected me over my use of poisonous... it’s when you stab a beer can open and it all comes out, y’know like –” Stiles pretended to hold a beer can in his hand, and stab it, making noises like it exploded, wiggling his fingers above his open palm. He paused, looking at Derek’s face and sighed, dropping his hands – “I’ll show you later.”

“What’s the point of that?”

“You drink it!” Stiles said and exhaled again. “Whatever, you’ll see.”

“So, that’s your only skill?”

Stiles shook his head seriously. “Nope. I’m also pretty good at running a naked mile and creating hilarious drinking games.”

“Sounds like your expensive education was worth it.” Derek hammered the lid back on the stain tin.

“Yup, need to sneak a full keg into a dorm room?” Stiles said. "Need a way to sneak into locked buildings on campus? Want to get drunk really fast? I’m your man."

Derek picked up the saw and started to load everything into the bed of the truck. “You make me regret not going to college,” Derek said.

“Really?” Stiles grabbed the toolbox and grunted as he lifted it into the back of the truck, he looked over at Derek. “Oh, you were kidding... I mean, it was some good fun, better than staying at home,” he said, his voice dropping into a miserable tone.

Stiles didn’t talk about home. He talked about college and a few mentions of camping as a kid, some stories about his friends.

But nothing much about his parents. Other than his mom passing when he was a kid. Maybe his dad wasn’t a good man and Stiles was left alone with him as a child, or maybe, like Derek, his dad was gone too. Derek didn’t ask.

“I need a beer,” Stiles said. His voice back to normal. He walked around to the passenger side. “And maybe an ice pack.”

“Alright, ready for this?” Stiles wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

Derek leaned his hands back against the picnic table. “Yeah.”

With a key in one hand and a beer can in the other, Stiles punctured a hole and lifted it to his mouth at the same time he opened the tab. Three seconds later, he lifted the can above his head and let out a loud belch.

“And that’s how it’s done folks,” Stiles said.

“I still don’t understand the point.”

Stiles wiped the drops of beer from his lips. “Gets you drunk and is impressive at parties.” He dropped the empty can onto the picnic table. “Your turn.”

Derek laughed. “I’m good.”

“You never went to college, you have to at least try one stupid drinking thing.” Stiles held out a can of beer, looking up through his eyelashes. As if he knew exactly what would make Derek cave.

Derek slowly took the can from Stiles, the younger man’s face breaking out into a thrilled grin.

“What you’re going to do is pierce a decent size hole in the bottom of the can, lift to your lips, then open the tab.” Stiles handed him the set of keys. “And get ready to swallow,” he said with a smirk.

Something about Stiles made Derek want to do stupid things like shotgun beers. Experience life in a more carefree way than he'd been able to do previously.

Derek stood up and stabbed the key into the can. But when he opened the tab, it sprayed everywhere. The beer went down the wrong way of his throat and he let out a cough. His nose burned from the beer.

Stiles laughed until tears came to his eyes. “I told you it was a skill.”

Derek wiped his face. “Why did it do that?”

“Happens sometimes,” Stiles said. “Usually with people who don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s a bit of a skill.” Derek put the empty beer can down on the picnic table.

Stiles pulled out a cigarette and sat down on the bench. “Why’d you drop out of high school?”

Derek sat back down at the picnic table and squeezed the beer from his soaked shirt. Kind of hard to write essays about The Great Gatsby and the American dream while being hunted. But what excuse could he give to someone who had no idea about the supernatural?

“I just did,” Derek said. 

“Right... sorry if that was personal.” Stiles bit at the scab on his lip.

“It’s just –” Derek sighed – “some things happened when I was in high school and it made it hard to keep going, so I dropped out... figured once things settled I would go back or at least get my GED, but I never did.”

“Why not?” Stiles asked.

Odie nuzzled his way under Derek’s hand. “I didn’t see a point anymore.” Idly petting Odie, he cleared his throat. “What made you choose Stanford?”

“Well, when you get accepted to Stanford can you really turn it down?” Stiles tapped off the ash from his cigarette. His voice softened as he continued. “And my mom went there... wanted to feel a bit of a connection.”

Derek wasn't like that. At first, he'd try clinging to what was left of his family but it almost destroyed him. Instead he chose to sever any connection. Reminders of them hurt too much. It wasn't until he let the last piece go he could finally breathe for the first time since he was sixteen.

It didn't mean he went a single day without thinking about them. It just meant they weren't all he thought of. Lifting his past off him, allowing him to be this messed up sort of happy he was. 

"Nice night out," Stiles said, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. “Cool how you can actually see the Milky Way out here.”

“Yeah.” It was a beautiful night. Only made better by the man sitting next to Derek on the picnic table. 


	4. Chapter 4

They should’ve been back in Beacon Hills by now. The plan should’ve been over. Picking up the pieces of the fallout. But for some reason he didn’t just scrap the car and get a rental. Instead he was actually paying to have the piece of shit fixed and agreed to live with Derek in the meantime. The worst part was that he was enjoying it.

The man was interesting. His whole lifestyle and personality, Stiles wanted to learn more. Wanted to learn everything about him, whatever information he could get from the man. He told himself that's what he'd been trained to do. The more he knew and understood the better prepared he could be. Or something.

He ignored calls from back home. What could he say? Eventually he was going to have to make a decision. Scott needed his help and they’d been best friends for too long for Stiles to hang him out to dry.

The more he ignored that part of his life the easier it was to stay undercover. Not that it was exactly hard to push it all away when he was living with someone like Derek.

He parked Derek’s truck on the street and hopped out, grabbing his laptop. There was one coffee shop in the whole town, thankfully it offered free internet. He ordered a coffee with sugar and sat down at a table, his back to the wall so he could watch the people.

They were interesting. That’s for sure. Not the hipster students that flooded coffee shops near campus. Instead it was people wearing plaid shirts tucked into jeans, cowboy hats and boots, hunting camo. And the worst, the ones with confederate flag t-shirts and far-right political messages.

After an hour of him mindlessly looking through the tracks he had on accounts, a sheriff’s deputy walked in.

Tall, blond, hot. With a golden boy smile and thick arms. Stiles’ weakness, he’d admit it. The deputy’s eyes fell to Stiles along the wall and the man looked away quickly.

Stiles shifted his attention back to his laptop. He pulled up Gerard’s emails.

“Thanks Sherry,” the man said. His voice suddenly close.

Stiles looked up, the deputy stood over him.

“New to town?” the deputy asked.

“Just passing through,” Stiles said.

He pointed at the chair across from Stiles, his wedding band clear as day against the coffee cup. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.” Stiles lowered his laptop screen and took a sip of his own coffee that'd grown cold a while ago. “You’re a deputy?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles nodded. “Bet you see a lot of animal attacks.”

The deputy shrugged. “Not as much as you’re probably thinking.”

“Really?” Stiles leaned back. “How many would you say in the past couple years?”

“Probably one or two, for the whole county.” He took a sip of his drink and ran his eyes over Stiles in a way that made Stiles feel like a slab of meat. “Don’t like animals?”

“Not ones that attack humans.” Stiles tapped his fingers on the table.

“That’s rare, usually humans do something to provoke them.” The deputy stood up. “How long are you in town for?”

“At least a week. We’ll see.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Where are you staying?” the deputy asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, just a cabin out of town,” Stiles said.

“Derek Wilson’s cabin?” The deputy’s voice turned cold.

Interesting.

“Yeah actually, why?”

“No reason.” The deputy looked at the coffee in his hand. “Gotta get back to work, I’ll see you around.”

Stiles watched as the man walked out the coffee shop. Now that was a reaction he hadn't been expecting. At the bar, everyone seemed to love Derek. What'd happened between the two men?

He opened his laptop again and read through the emails. Which provided no new information. The search was on. For Allison and Scott, for him, for the Hale they thought was dead. 

“Well that’s a sour looking face for such a young man.” A sweet woman’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

He looked up to see Ruby standing there with another older woman, shorter than Ruby which was a feat in itself. They each held a coffee cup in one hand and a plate with scones in the other. Both of them had warm, friendly eyes hidden behind glasses.

“Hey Ruby,” he said, slipping into an easy smile.

“Sheila, this is the man I was telling you about, Stiles.” Ruby gestured with the plate still in her hands.

“Hi Stiles, nice to meet you,” Sheila said. “My husband is Fred.”

“Oh, nice dude," Stiles said. "Do you ladies want to join me?” He closed his laptop for good and pushed it to the edge of the table.

“If you don’t mind,” Ruby said. 

* * *

Stiles got out of the truck with his laptop under his arm. That morning he’d asked to borrow Derek’s truck so he could go into town and find some internet, didn’t say what he needed to do. They'd spent a lot of time together over the past couple of days, it was hard to avoid someone living in a tiny cabin, having Stiles around made the days pass quicker and it was a little weird when he'd left.

He stopped in front of Derek and pushed his sunglasses up into his hair.

“Guess what Ruby told me?”

Derek lowered his book. “What’s that?”

“Apparently there’s some meteor shower thing tonight, supposed to be pretty cool.” Stiles looked down at the ground. “Thought maybe we could stay up and watch for it?”

“Sure.”

“Cool, want a beer?”

“I’d take a water,” Derek said.

Stiles went into the cabin and there was some banging around, along with a couple curse words. He came back out a couple minutes later. Dragging the other lawn chair down off the porch to beside Derek. He handed Derek a glass of water and sat down, letting his long legs fall open.

“Hit my head off the dresser, hurt like a bitch,” Stiles said. He pulled his sunglasses down onto his face and cracked open the beer.

“Of course, you did.”

Derek went back to his book and Stiles sat quietly for a while. Just shaking his knee.

Out of the corner of his eye Derek watched Stiles shift his attention towards Derek, staring at him as he read. Derek raised his head and Stiles quickly looked away, lifting the bottle of beer to his lips. 

Derek picked up his glass of water from the grass. “What?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

For the first time since living with Derek, a strong smell of arousal came from Stiles. There were signs that he was attracted to Derek, little comments made here and there, a heated look in his eyes, but never a scent. It caught Derek off guard and he almost choked on the sip of water he'd just taken.

Usually he could smell arousal from people the second they'd set eyes on him. Not everyone, Erica certainly never had a scent of arousal towards him, Ruby and the other older women he knew. Other men who weren't interested in men. He'd gotten used to the looks from people, the objectification, he was guilty of doing it to others. He knew it was normal... human... they didn't know him, the only information they had was what he looked like. But sometimes it was overwhelming, it took over conversations and made it hard to get to know people. Not that he really even tried anymore.

With Stiles though, the attraction was all in the background. Like he was actually interested in Derek as a person and not just his looks and it was _nice._

Stiles rubbed the back of his head. "I - uh - I appreciate everything you've done... a lot of people wouldn't just offer their place to a stranger."

Derek still didn't know why he did. Even if he found Stiles attractive it wasn't like him to invite someone in. Hell, he never brought someone back to the cabin. It was probably because Stiles needed help and a place to stay. At least, that's what Derek was going with. Any other reasons had implications Derek didn’t like.

"You're not bad company," Derek said.

Stiles' eyebrows shot up. "I think you're the first person to think that."

"Why's that?"

"My anxiety gives me annoying habits."

Derek shrugged. "Everyone has annoying habits."

"What's yours?"

"Oh, well, I'm an exemption of course," Derek said with a smirk.

Stiles laughed, his head falling back. "Of course." Stiles looked him over. "Too charming."

"Being charming? That's my annoying habit?"

"Yeah, definitely." Stiles sunk into the chair and pulled out a cigarette. "Too damn charming." 

Derek drove the truck through the fields, Odie standing on Stiles' legs to put his head out the window.

"We could've just walked," Stiles said.

"This is faster." Derek parked the truck and hopped out, Odie following him. He opened the back gate and pulled out the blanket. Stiles' arm reaching to grab the cooler of beer.

"We'll have to wait to drink these after that ride," Stiles said.

The crickets and cicadas were out in full force. Too late in the night for mosquitoes. For the human eye, the moon looked full. But Derek's inner wolf could feel that it still had a couple of days. Every day he was a little more on edge.

He spread out the blanket in the grass, Stiles flopping down on his back, smiling up at Derek. The night had brought a cool breeze in from the mountains, flowing across the wide-open space of the field. Stiles had thrown on a hoodie, its dark red contrasting with his pale face, the white letters of the word _Stanford_ peeling. 

"I'm trying really hard not to think about all the spiders underneath us right now," Stiles said.

Odie ran up to him, shoving his nose in Stiles’ face and sniffing.

Stiles laughed and pushed him away. “I’m trying to watch a meteor shower!”

As Derek sat down, Odie ran over to him instead, his front claws digging into Derek’s legs as he tried to lick Derek’s face.

“Calm down,” Derek said. Using a touch of his alpha voice so that the dog would actually listen.

Odie whined but laid down.

“What’s the story behind Odie?” Stiles asked, lying his head on his arms and looking over at Derek.

“Boyd found him in an alley about three years ago, he was too young to be on his own and needed constant care. Boyd and Erica don’t really have the space. So, I took him in.” Derek rubbed Odie’s white stomach.

“Oh my god!” Stiles pointed to the sky. “I just saw a shooting star! There’s another one! Derek, get down here you’re gonna miss it.”

Derek laid next to Stiles on the blanket. Odie rubbed his back against the ground, hitting Derek in the sides with his paws. Moving over a bit closer to Stiles, Derek saw a white light shoot across the sky.

“Did you see it?” Stiles asked excitedly.

“Yeah.” Derek turned his head.

Stiles’ lips pulled up on one side with a soft smile.

Derek’s heart beating hard in his chest. It hadn’t done that just from someone’s smile in a long time. It amazed Derek that he could enjoy someone’s presence this much after only knowing him for five days. Being with Stiles was easy.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Why are you still single?” he asked, turning his attention back to the sky.

“I don’t know, why are you still single?”

“Young... stupid... I don't do the whole casual thing which is what most people my age want now... and well, I mean, I’m me,” Stiles said. “But you’re probably Wyoming’s most eligible bachelor... so why haven’t you settled down?”

Derek sat up and Stiles followed him.

“I - uh – had two very disastrous relationships and that was it for me.”

“You’ll never have a relationship again?”

Derek didn’t know what Stiles was searching for. They were attracted to each other that much was clear. If Stiles was just another summer tourist Derek would've already made a move. But Stiles was young, probably at least ten years his junior. Derek was conflicted with that kind of age gap.

And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid. What he felt for Stiles wasn't something he'd ever felt for someone. Not that he loved him or really anything close to those kinds of feelings for him, it was still too early for that, but Derek already knew there was a potential. Felt it in all of their interactions. There was leftover fear from his past, that he’d trust Stiles and be wrong for it. Or worse, Stiles would end up hurt because of Derek. Everyone close to Derek got hurt eventually.

“Earth to Derek,” Stiles said, knocking his shoulder off Derek’s.

“I don’t know. If the right person comes along, I guess maybe.” Derek laid back down. “You’re missing the meteor shower.”

Stiles leaned over Derek’s face. “I know we just met and it’s not my place to say this, but you shouldn’t keep yourself from being happy just because you’re scared.”

He wished it was that easy. That his two relationships ended badly because someone cheated or whatever normal things caused bad break-ups. That wasn’t the case though. They both ended in death. Horrible, tragic deaths that he couldn’t get out of his mind no matter how many people he fucked.

“I know,” Derek said. “Maybe one day.”

Stiles laid back down next to him and they watched the rest of the meteor shower in silence, a foot apart on the blanket.

It was in these moments that Derek thought they could have something more. A deeper connection than all his past hook-ups. He didn't want to ruin a chance of that. Because even as much as it terrified him, the thought of being vulnerable and letting someone in, there was a part of Derek that wanted it. The feeling he had with Stiles almost made the possibility of getting his heart broken worth it.

* * *

His nerves were on edge, he knew that Derek could tell, kept glancing at him as he made breakfast. Stiles got off the couch and dug through his duffel bag, everything he owned in two bags, he’d hidden away his backpack.

Packing was rushed, he basically just emptied his dresser and left, driving away before they caught up with him. Now he had almost nothing and nowhere to go. 

Finding the clothes he used for working out, he changed in the bathroom. It was the first day since the accident he didn't feel like his bones were turning to dust and running helped with his anxiety. He liked the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his head. Made all the other feelings in his body fade away as he pushed himself to keep going.

Picked it up in high school when he needed to get fit for hunting. He'd joined the track team, got a scholarship but the cigarettes made his lungs too shit to outrun the people who didn't smoke and he lost it after two years of college. Ended up keeping the routine though and he'd missed it the past few days.

"I'm going for a run," Stiles said as he came out of the bathroom. "I'll just eat when I get back.” He grabbed his running shoes from the bag and pulled them on.

"Alright." Derek dished his breakfast onto a plate and left the extra eggs in the pan. "There's a trail right behind the cabin if you wanted to run that."

"I'll check it out." Stiles finished tying his laces and went outside. The morning already warm and muggy.

Odie jumped on him as he came around the side of the cabin to stretch.

"Want to go for a run boy?" he asked, leaning over to touch his ankles. His thighs were stiff from lack of exercise and the soreness from the accident pushed him to stretch deeper.

He took long steady breaths, warming his muscles up. Odie sniffed his face as he bent over and Stiles laughed, the dog always made him feel a bit better. He could see the draw of having pets, they were innocent compared to humans, just wanting gentle attention. 

He finished stretching and took off with Odie next to him. The dirt trail was wide with rocks jutting out of the ground he had to avoid. The forest dark and cool with a breeze compared to in the open.

He forced himself to run faster, harder, until the only thing he could think about was the aching in his legs and burning in his lungs. Odie ran zig-zags in front of him, stopping to smell things along the trail and bark at chipmunks. After a bit, when Stiles thought there was a chance he was going to throw up, he turned back. Whistling for Odie to follow him.

Getting back to the cabin, Stiles stretched out his legs in the shade. Odie lapping at the water in his bowl next to his dog house. Scanning the property for Derek, the cabin silent next to him, he found the man in the middle of the horses’ field. Raking at the ground, wearing the cowboy hat.

_Good fucking lord._ Stiles’ heart leapt into his throat.

Before coming to this town, Stiles thought cowboy hats were cheesy, he didn't believe people actually wore them. Apparently, Derek did. And the way he wore one suddenly made Stiles appreciate the accessory.

Feelings he usually didn't have for people he barely knew surfaced. A chill ran down his spine despite the sweat collecting on the back of his neck. Derek made him want things he didn't usually want. He wasn't lying the other night when he told Derek he didn't do casual. But if they were in different circumstances and casual was all Stiles could get from Derek then he might reconsider his stance on it. 

They weren't in different circumstances though. Stiles was a hunter and Derek was an alpha werewolf who thought Stiles was just some college kid. And the only way this situation ended was with one of them six feet under.

So Stiles finished stretching and had a smoke on the porch, still watching Derek work in the field, oblivious to Stiles.

At least, he seemed oblivious. Focused on the task at hand, not once looking over at Stiles, until Odie finally finished drinking and ran over to Derek. Stiles' cover was blown.

Derek looked up as he stopped raking and gave Stiles a small wave.

Stiles waved back and stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette tossing it in the can. He ducked into the cabin and grabbed a change of clothes, heading for a cold shower instead of joining Derek in the field. Always attracted to men he shouldn't be. The worst choices. The Hale alpha could quite possibly be the worst one yet.

Letting out a deep breath as he closed the bathroom door, he could barely look at himself in the mirror. The bruise across his cheekbone had faded to a greenish-yellow. His lip still not fully healed after biting it open repeatedly. Stripping down, he turned on the shower. The water froze his muscles.

He scrubbed his face and leaned back against the tiles. It was easy to forget everything else living with Derek. Away from civilization, off in their own world of a small town. Or almost easy. He’d still lay awake at night wondering how the fuck he’d gotten to that point. Replaying the past couple months in his mind. He didn’t know how he’d ever fix this. He had to try though.

At the kitchen table, Stiles ate the cold eggs and fruit Derek had left for him.

The front steps creaked as Derek walked up and into the cabin. Thankfully the cowboy hat was in his hands. He hung up the hat beside the door. "I'm going to take Rhythm for a ride, want to come?" Derek asked.

Stiles picked up his plate. "Are you going to wear your cowboy hat?” He walked over to the sink and filled it with hot water.

“Ruby gave that to me as a welcome gift," Derek said with amusement in his voice.

“But you wear it," Stiles said. He washed the few dishes from Derek's breakfast sitting on the counter.

"Yeah, I do in the sun sometimes." Derek's voice suddenly close.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder, Derek leaned against the stove with a glass of water.

“How’d you meet Ruby?” Stiles asked.

“She took care of the property and Dakota for years while it was up for sale. So, when I moved in, she dropped by with the hat and some cookies.”

“She seems nice,” Stiles said.

“Yeah, doesn’t care where you come from, just loves people." He placed his empty glass on the counter. "You didn't answer the question."

"Which was?"

"Did you want to come for a ride?"

"Sure, let me just finish these." Stiles nodded to the dishes.

They walked over to the barn together. Cold air rushed out as Derek pulled open the doors. The smell of hay and old wood more comforting than repulsive now. Derek handed him a saddle and reins. It had surprised Stiles to find out how heavy they actually were. Grabbing the other set, they walked out to the field.

Derek whistled the horses over, feeding them apples and brushing his hands through their manes.

Stiles watched him as he methodically groomed and saddled the horses. Running the brush over their bodies and patting them on the back. He talked to them, had conversations like they could understand him, it was like he forgot Stiles was standing there.

“Where’d you learn to do all this?” Stiles asked, leaning against the fence.

“Ruby and Jimmy helped out for the first year.” Derek was hyper-focused on the straps of Rhythm’s saddle. “Taught me how to take care of Dakota, helped me build the coop.”

“Are you close with them?”

Derek shrugged. “I go for dinner at their place every couple weeks.” He pulled back from the saddle and patted Rhythm on her chest. “Good girl, are you ready for a trail ride?”

Rhythm whinnied and Derek chuckled in response.

Derek looked back at Stiles. “Are you ready?”

“Let’s go cowboy,” Stiles said as he pushed off the fence.

They headed back through the fields towards the trail they’d ridden before.

Derek came to a stop in the field. “Look,” he said, pointing towards the east.

Two deer stood in the distance, eating the grass, silhouettes in the sun. Stiles pulled on the reins to stop Dakota and she actually responded.

“Maybe they’re a deer couple out for a deer lunch,” Stiles said, a smile playing at his lips.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “They’re both females, neither one has antlers.”

“Maybe they’re lesbians, ever think of that?” Stiles laughed. “Don’t discriminate, they’re in love!”

Derek shook his head, smiling at Stiles. “You’re ridiculous.” His voice warm as he tightened his fingers around Rhythm’s reins.

“What’s the chances one of them is the bastard deer that jumped in front of my car?”

Odie barked at them, not understanding why they suddenly stopped, and they carried on. Stiles nudging Dakota back into a slow trot.

“Jumped?” Derek asked. “Or did you just not see it?”

“However it happened, it was _definitely_ the deer’s fault.”

Derek laughed. “Sounds like it was kind of your fault.”

“I maintain my innocence.”

As they crossed into the forest he could feel Dakota’s body relax, her feet starting to drag so she could stretch out their ride as long as possible. Stiles let himself fall behind.

It was Thursday which meant he had four days before his car could be ready. Four days left with Derek and Wyoming, trail rides and sitting on the porch drinking beers. Four days of feeling better than he had in a long time. 

Derek looked over at him from where he sat on Rhythm, the skin around his eyes crinkling with smile lines.

Stiles looked down at the reins in his hands. In the past, he didn't have to make these kinds of decisions. Always pushed away responsibility for his actions because he was just doing what he was told to do. Now it was his choice. If he carried on with the original plan and if Derek got hurt - _when_ Derek got hurt - it'd be his decision that caused it. His own fault.

“Do you trust me?” Derek asked suddenly.

For some reason Stiles did trust him. A man he barely knew, a man he'd been taught not to trust.

"Yeah, why?" Stiles said.

"Want to go a bit faster?" Derek raised an eyebrow with a challenge.

"Is that a good idea for me?"

Derek pulled Rhythm to a stop. "I'll be right here.”

“Okay. I guess.”

"Just move some of your body weight off of her back and squeeze your legs into her side, if she doesn't start trotting keep putting pressure on her until she does," Derek said. He lifted himself off Rhythm and the horse started to move quicker. Stiles stared at the tight jeans pulled over his ass. Derek turned Rhythm around and came to a stop. "Your turn."

Stiles held the reins in shaking hands and straightened his legs, just standing up a bit and squeezed his legs. Dakota continued with her dragging pace.

"Squeeze tighter," Derek called out.

Stiles tightened his legs and finally Dakota started to pick up the pace. Jolting Stiles, he yelped, hands flying down to the saddle. Dakota whinnied and stopped.

Derek laughed. "You gotta be ready for it, bend your knees a bit for stability."

"Right."

It went on for a bit. Stiles trying to get Dakota to trot, Derek patiently waiting near him, giving him tips. Until finally, they went through the forest together at an easy but quicker pace, it was kind of fun. Once Stiles learned to relax into it. The wind rushed against his face, and he grinned over at Derek.

Just like the first time he rode Dakota, Stiles fell on his ass when he tried to get off of her. The burn of a blush spreading through his face as Derek ducked his head with a laugh.

"One day I'll do that without falling," Stiles said as he picked himself off the ground.

Derek tied Rhythm to the fence and undid the straps of the saddle. "Just takes practice."

Stiles held Dakota's reins, she nudged the side of his face with her nose. "Hey girl," he said quietly, running his hand down her face. "You like me now?"

"Dakota likes everyone," Derek said. "Especially those that give her food."

"And here I thought I was special." 

Derek smiled at his hands, lifting the saddle off Rhythm's back. "The true test is Rhythm." He placed the saddle over the fence. 

At the sound of her name, she breathed out. Moving her feet around impatiently.

Stiles took a slow step towards Derek and Rhythm. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, just no sudden movements, lift your hand out and let her decide whether she likes you or not." Derek brushed across her back.

"That's not very reassuring."

"Can't be worse than the first time I got close to her."

"What'd she do?"

"I don't think you want to know the answer when you're standing two feet away from her."

"What?" Stiles' voice squeaked.

Derek looked amused. "I'll make sure she doesn't hurt you."

Very slowly, Stiles lifted his hand up to Rhythm's nose. "Hey Rhythm," he whispered. "It's just me, Stiles."

Rhythm reared back, the reins pulling tight and she made a noise deep in her throat. Stiles flinched.

"Rhythm," Derek said in his alpha voice. "Stop."

She calmed down, stilling where she stood, but Stiles stepped away.

"Maybe another day," Derek said. 

"Yeah." Stiles looked around the field, feeling a bit useless. "Can I help in any way?" 

"Uh - sure, if you want to tie Dakota to the fence you could start taking off her saddle." Derek picked up the brush from the ground and started to run it down Rhythm's neck.

They worked side by side, their backs to each other, Dakota drank from the trough of water, barely registering Stiles standing next to her.

"Do you always have to do this before and after riding them?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, before riding you want to make sure there's nothing on them or in their hooves that will irritate them... afterwards it's more about cleaning them up of dirt and sweat," Derek said. "And I try to get out and do it every day regardless of whether we go for a ride or not. It's an easy way to monitor their health too."

"Seems like a lot of work." Stiles freed Dakota of the saddle and placed it on the fence. Removing the pad from underneath. 

"Not so bad," Derek said. "It gets quicker the more you do it. If you want, I can show you how to brush Dakota down."

"Sure.”

They stood closer to each other than they had all week, Derek moved the brush over Dakota's fur with short, brisk movements. Puffs of dust coming off the horse.

"It's pretty simple. Just go gently, sometimes she'll lean into it, she loves to be brushed." Derek looked at him.

He was so close, a faint smell of sweat hit Stiles' nose, mixed with the smell of hay and Derek's soap. It was attractive, in a way it shouldn't be, Stiles should find it repulsive.

Nothing about Derek repulsed him though. Not the smell of barn that followed him into the cabin after being outside all day, or the dirt stains across his face and white shirts that he always wore even though he was working on a fucking farm, or the fact that he was a werewolf.

Unpredictable, aggressive, an animal. All things Stiles had been told about werewolves. All things he'd witnessed for himself over the years.

"Stiles?" Derek held the brush out.

His fingers grazed over Derek's as he took the brush and the touch made him look up.

Derek's gaze fell to Stiles' mouth and Stiles wondered what it'd be like to kiss Derek. To have his beard scraping against Stiles' skin and the feeling of their lips together, if it'd feel different than the men Stiles had kissed before. If it'd feel better. Not dirty. 

Stiles bit his lip. The taste of iron touching his tongue as he reopened the scab.

"You should stop doing that," Derek said. His voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"Biting your lip, it'll never heal at this rate."

Stiles cleared his throat, looking away, he lowered the brush to Dakota. "Yeah." He took a shuddery breath. "I know." 

* * *

A moan woke Derek up. A second moan followed close behind and Derek frowned. Stiles wouldn’t touch himself only a few feet away from Derek, would he?

The next noise was a whimper, broken, weak, defeated. “Don’t hurt her,” he mumbled. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

Derek pushed himself up in the bed, Odie stirring at his feet. The cabin was starting to lighten with dawn, just enough he could see Stiles on the couch.

His lips quivered as his eyebrows pulled together. “Stop.” A shaking breath escaped his chest and he seemed close to crying. “Please stop.”

Derek got out of bed and pulled on his jeans. He went over to Stiles on the couch and as gently as he could, he shook the man’s shoulder.

Stiles’ hands flew up in front of his face as he let out a shout.

“Stiles! It’s just me, it’s Derek.”

Lowering his hands, Stiles looked around the cabin and down at his hands, his fingers twitching. When he looked back at Derek the expression on his face pulled at something in Derek’s chest.

“You’re safe,” Derek said, taking his hand off Stiles' shoulder. “It was just a dream.”

“Just a dream,” Stiles repeated. He leaned back against the couch and ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck.” He looked up at Derek. “What time is it?”

Derek straightened up and looked at the clock next to the front door. “Around five.”

“All I want is a smoke,” Stiles said with a laugh.

Derek walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the kettle. “Want a tea?”

“Sure.”

Derek filled the kettle from the sink and put it on the stovetop, turning on the element with a flicker of the flame. Stiles went out to the porch, Odie jumping down off the bed and running out behind him.

He got two cups ready with the only kind of tea he had before pulling on a sweater and joining Stiles.

Still in his pajamas, Stiles leaned against the railing and smoked, staring out across the dark blue landscape.

“Sorry I woke you up,” Stiles said.

“All good... did you – uh – want to talk about it?” Derek asked, ruffling the bedhead out of his hair.

Stiles smiled sadly with his face tilted down towards his chest. “No.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind...”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

The kettle started to screech and Derek went back in to pour the water into the mugs. He brought them out to Stiles and sat in the lawn chair, Stiles plunking down next to him, taking the hot tea from Derek.

Silently, they watched the sunrise over the next hour together. The birds beginning to chirp and an easy peacefulness falling over the porch. Stiles’ mood changing from fear to contentment.

It was Friday night, Derek drove into town on his own and sat at the bar like he did most Friday nights. He hadn’t seen Erica or Boyd in a while. Asked Stiles if he wanted to join, but Stiles passed out on the couch before Derek even left. Probably tired from the early morning.

“Look who it is!” Erica grinned as she came out of the backroom.

“Hey.” Derek nodded.

“Rumor mill tells me you have a house guest.” Erica pursed her red lips, pouring him a beer.

“Crashed his car and needed a place to stay for a bit.”

She set the beer down in front of him. “Heard he’s young –” Erica leaned her palms on the bar – “and hot.”

“Who told you that?”

Her eyes strayed over his shoulder. He glanced behind at the booths along the wall, Ruby and Jimmy sat with Fred and Sheila.

“Ruby?”

Erica smirked. “So, is it true?”

“Yes, he’s young.”

“And?”

“I’m sure you’ll meet him at some point.”

The retired sheriff sat down at the bar. He ordered his usual and nodded towards Derek.

Erica made the sheriff his drink. “Hey Rob, how’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know... it’s going,” he muttered.

“Yeah, sure is.” Erica opened a tab and then settled back in front of Derek. “Ruby also said your boy’s been asking around about animal attacks.”

“He’s scared of bears.” Derek smiled. “And he’s not my boy.” He tacked on.

“Mhm, well you’ve been awfully absent lately.”

“You’re judging me for not spending my nights in a bar?” Derek laughed.

Erica shrugged. “I know how you like tourists.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Alright,” Erica said.

“You good for tomorrow?” Derek asked, lowering his voice.

“Yeah, have the night off. I’ll be fine.” Erica tapped her blood red nails on the counter. “Thanks for checking though.”

Boyd came out of the backroom. “Hey Derek, how’s it going?”

They fell into an easy conversation between serving other customers, Erica bringing him a basket of fries.

He went a long time without having any friends after the fire. One day, he walked by the bar and caught the scent of another werewolf. Instantly put on edge, he stormed into the bar to see the threat.

Boyd welcomed him in and offered Derek a beer and some food, introduced him to his human wife Erica. Told Derek about his old pack back in Chicago. After a couple months, Derek felt safe enough to tell Boyd that he was a Hale. Since then Derek spent a lot of nights just hanging out in the bar with them. They were the people he spent his holidays with, the three of them were the closet thing each other had to family. 

*

The next morning, he could feel the full moon pushing his inner wolf. It wasn’t that he struggled to keep it in control, hadn’t in a long time, but he still felt it all day and night. Like a string pulled too tight. With the smell of Stiles all over his cabin it set him on edge even more. There were things he could do to lessen the tension. Anything physical helped.

Dressed in his usual running clothes, joggers and a tight t-shirt, Stiles slipped on his shoes.

“Mind if I join you today?” Derek asked, placing his empty coffee cup in the sink.

Stiles eyed him up and down. “In jeans?”

“I have shorts.”

“Sure, if you think you can keep up.” Stiles quirked an eyebrow and lifted his foot up behind him, stretching out his leg.

Derek changed into an old pair of basketball shorts he never wore and brushed his teeth.

While Stiles finished stretching, Derek had to leave the cabin just so he didn’t jump the man right then and there. He checked to make sure the animal's water levels were good even though he'd just done that an hour previously. When he was finished, Stiles and Odie were waiting for him at the barn.

“Ready cowboy?” Stiles asked.

They ran Stiles’ usual trail in the forest right behind the cabin. At first, he tried to keep an easy pace but the full moon pushed him faster. Stiles managed to keep up with him, the only sounds were the birds and their feet thumping against the dirt trail. The feeling of the moon slightly edging away as he focused on the rhythmic beat of Stiles’ racing heart.

Stiles dropped to the ground as soon as they got back to the cabin. His chest heaving with winded breaths, splayed out in the grass. “Goddamn,” he wheezed.

Derek smiled and sat down at the picnic table. A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck. He peeled off his soaked shirt and wiped the sweat off his skin.

He could feel Stiles’ eyes on him.

“Can you pass me my smokes?” Stiles propped himself up on his elbows.

Derek grabbed the pack and lighter from the picnic table, tossing them towards Stiles.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of running?”

“I run because I smoke.” He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, raising his eyebrows at Derek before lying back on the ground.

As if that made any more sense. He was one big contradiction. Loud, sarcastic, full of jokes. At the same time, his eyes settled softly on Derek’s movements. Stiles’ own body moving with hesitation and not at all confident like the false bravado in his words.

“Balances things out,” Stiles continued.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Stiles went in for a shower but Derek was still wound up. He watered the gardens, collected the vegetables, cleaned up the field. Taking comfort in the familiar.

A couple weeks ago he had dragged a fallen tree from the forest to chop up for firewood. He took out the chainsaw and cut the trunk into smaller pieces. Once the sizes were manageable he grabbed the axe and spent an hour or so chopping wood.

A sweet smell of arousal broke him out of his trance and he turned around. Stiles leaned against the barn watching him.

“Expecting cold weather?” Stiles asked.

“Figured I’d get it ready for the winter.” Derek wiped his forehead of the sweat that’d collected. “We could have a fire outside tonight though, if you wanted.”

“Sure.”

Derek placed another piece of wood on the tree trunk he used as a chopping block. Swinging the axe above his head. There was another wave of arousal and it was distracting as he drove the axe down into the wood.

“Just gonna watch me?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Do you really want me handling an axe?”

It was a fair question. Already, he’d broken one of Derek’s plates and fell on his ass when he tried to get off Dakota. More than once. He managed to drop a basket of eggs, which he apologized profusely for. Hammering his thumb, tripping over the rug in the living room, hitting his head off the dresser. He definitely didn’t have Derek’s gracefulness.

“I guess not.” Derek turned back to the wood. And tried to ignore the buzzing underneath his skin.

* * *

Everything he learned about Derek conflicted with the stories told about the alpha. The rumored Hale alpha that other hunters and werewolves alike talked about would’ve never spent a day in the hospital with an old lady while her husband had surgery. Would’ve never dropped by with homemade meals for two weeks. Wouldn’t have offered Stiles a place to stay or take care of horses and _chickens_. 

Derek threw another log on the fire, his face reflecting the orange flames.

The fire crackled and spit. Burning sparks rising up into the black sky and fizzing out. Frogs croaked in the depths of the forest reminding him of summers spent camping as a kid. Before his life had turned to the flaming shit ball it was.

As Stiles put on some music, the twang of the guitar caused Derek’s face to twist up across the fire.

“Not a country fan?” Stiles asked.

“No.”

“Isn't it sacrilegious to live in this kind of town and not like country?”

Derek laughed. “Maybe, it all sounds the same to me.”

“I was raised on rock and country. It’s all I know, sorry.” Stiles lit up a cigarette and looked at the sky.

The full moon shining its silver light across the earth. He wondered how Scott was doing. If Allison was managing it okay. His chest tightened with the thoughts of his best friends going through this without him.

Derek didn’t seem to struggle. He’d been on edge all day, Stiles could tell from the tightness in his spine. Spent the day chopping wood and running and riding. But there wasn’t the bloodlust hunters were warned about. There wasn’t the anger Scott had.

“Full moon.” Stiles tilted his chin up.

Derek looked up, the moon reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Know where the term lunatic comes from?” Stiles asked.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “The moon?”

“Yeah... lunar. People think full moons cause strange behavior... kids misbehave more, emergency rooms are fuller, whatever.” Stiles leaned his elbows on his knees. “But really it’s just confirmation bias.”

“Confirmation bias?”

“People have the tendency to look for the information that confirms their biases and ignore information that contradicts it. They see a crazy emergency room and associate it with the full moon, but ignore all the other times emergency rooms are crazy.”

Confirmation bias. As hard as he looked he couldn’t find anything that confirmed the biases about Derek.

“Learn that at your fancy school?” Derek asked.

Stiles laughed and leaned back into the lawn chair. “Yeah, first year psych elective.” Stiles went back to his smoke and watched as the fire consumed the log. Wondering if it bothered Derek to be around the fire, if it reminded him of the fire that took his family.


	5. Chapter 5

By the third time they went out together, Stiles had the hang of horseback riding. They were able to move across the backfields quicker than the past two times. Derek’s charming smile enough to ease any apprehension he felt. He found it almost peaceful. Dakota seemed to like him well enough and never did anything unexpected, he'd come to trust her.

This time was no different than the rest, Derek took the lead with Rhythm in the forest and they didn’t really talk. Just a few comments back and forth.

Stiles started to take comfort in the passing silences. They were comfortable with Derek in a way it wasn’t with others. It was nice to just _be._

“Odie!” Derek shouted.

Stiles snapped his gaze towards Derek in front of him.

“Shit,” Derek muttered, he pulled on the reins and swung his leg over Rhythm with fluid movements, landing on the ground. “He’s gone.” He grabbed Dakota’s bridle - Derek had taught him the name of the some of the equipment. “Can you get off and stay here with the horses?”

Stiles slid off Dakota in a less graceful fashion than Derek had just done and hesitantly took Rhythm’s reins from Derek.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah if Rhythm gives you too much of a problem just let her go.” Derek turned to Rhythm, his voice slipping into the alpha tone. “ _Rhythm, behave_.”

The horse made a low noise in her throat but stayed still.

Derek disappeared into the forest, whistling and calling for Odie.

The rein was long, putting at least three feet between him and Rhythm. She stood, watching Stiles, her tail swinging up to hit her sides to keep away flies.

Dakota pushed her nose against his shoulder and he reached up, smoothing a hand across her cheek.

“Hey girl,” he whispered.

The sounds of twigs breaking faded as Derek got further away, his voice barely audible in the depths of the forest.

Rhythm took a step towards him and he flinched, backing into Dakota. The older horse let out a huff of air.

“Sorry.” He laughed under his breath. He couldn’t believe he was standing there apologizing to a _horse_.

His fingers tightened around Rhythm’s reins and he stepped towards her, holding out a trembling hand. Probably a stupid decision. Though he'd never been known for his good decision making skills. Quite a few times throughout his life, his inability to control himself - or his mouth - landed him with bruises and even a few broken bones.

The dark horse dropped her nose to his hand and sniffed. She raised her head and made a low noise, not threatening, instead it was close to the nickering sound she made when Derek was nearby.

“Do you like me now?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb her.

Rhythm nudged her nose into his palm.

He laughed, for some irrational reason the edges of his eyes filled with tears. “Oh my god.” He placed his fingers more firmly on the ridge of her nose, running them up the strip of white fur towards her head.

The snap of a twig made him and Rhythm look over towards the forest.

Derek stood bent over with Odie’s collar in his hand. Odie panted and looked like he was kind of smiling as if he enjoyed making Derek run after him.

“She likes you,” Derek said, his mouth curving up into a half smile.

“I guess so.” Stiles dropped his hand.

“Odie stay with us now,” Derek said and let the dog’s collar go.

Odie bounced over to Stiles and pushed against his legs.

“He’s trying to suck up to me because he knows I can’t stay mad.”

“I was lucky I could find him, he managed to get pretty far away.” Derek stepped out of the forest and held out his hand. “I’ll hold Dakota while you get back on.”

Stiles’ fingers brushed against Derek’s palm as he handed him the reins. He pulled himself up onto Dakota with little struggle, smiling down at Derek.

“Pretty soon you’re going to have to call me cowboy,” Stiles said.

Derek laughed and hauled himself up and over Rhythm’s back. “We’ll have to get you a hat of your own,” Derek said.

* * *

“Wow, you’re _really_ not good at this,” Stiles said as Derek missed the empty beer can for the second time.

The sun beat down on them and his shirt stuck to his back. There was barely any breeze to cool them from the sweltering afternoon heat.

“I’ve never aimed at anything before,” Derek said. Wondering how he let Stiles talk him into shooting targets in the backfields after their ride.

“What about the wild animals?”

“I don’t want to hurt them, I just shoot near them to scare them off.”

“Who knew you were such a softy?”

Derek lowered the gun and looked at Stiles. “You’d shoot an animal just because it’s following its instincts?”

Stiles’ face wore an indistinguishable expression as he shrugged. “Depends... here, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Stiles held out his hand and Derek passed him the shotgun a little apprehensively. Giving the clumsy person a machine designed to kill wasn’t usually the best idea.

Stiles pumped the gun and raised it up. “Sometimes you have to kill the rabid dog,” Stiles muttered, aiming at the can. He pulled the trigger.

The beer can tinged with the perfect shot. To say that Derek was shocked would be an understatement. Nothing about Stiles said he knew how to shoot... or that he could actually hit a target.

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Struggle to ride a horse but I can shoot a gun.” Stiles winked. “Here throw this up in the air –” he handed Derek a full beer can from the cooler they’d brought with them – “far enough that it won’t hit us.”

Derek looked at Stiles unsurely.

“Just do it,” Stiles said.

Derek used a bit of his strength to chuck the beer can up and away from them. As it fell out of the sky, Stiles shot the gun, the beer exploding in the air with a loud pop.

“Who are you?” Derek said in wonder, staring at Stiles as he lowered the gun.

“Apparently a city boy with redneck tendencies.” Stiles laughed. “I’ll teach you.”

He didn’t like guns, they were violent and for a while there, they were always aimed at him. But Stiles made it seem fun and he was looking at him with wide-eye anticipation, Derek couldn’t say no.

“Okay.”

Stiles bent down and grabbed more shotgun shells, reloading the gun. “It’s not a rifle, so don’t look at the barrel, look at the target instead. And when you shoot, don’t lift your head off the stock, stay like this –” Stiles raised the gun up and showed Derek the way to hold it – “make sense?”

Stiles pumped the gun, holding it out between them.

“More or less.” Derek took the gun and tried to follow the directions he’d been given. He pulled the trigger.

Another miss.

Stiles’ fingers pushed on Derek’s elbow readjusting him, the simple touch making Derek’s skin buzz.

“Don’t close your eye when you shoot,” Stiles said. He was right near Derek’s ear. “I think that’s your problem... try and keep both eyes open.” He moved away.

Derek pulled the pump handle and took another shot. This time there was the ting of a can. Derek lowered the gun.

“You did it,” Stiles said with a proud smile.

They walked back through the long grass of the field. Stiles mindlessly chattered about a TV show he liked. Something based in Wyoming.

“The main character’s kinda like you... cowboy living off in a small cabin with a horse... has no phone... dark and mysterious past –” Stiles’ foot caught on the grass and he yelped as he fell down.

Derek couldn’t stop the laugh that came out of his mouth. He offered his hand to Stiles.

“We’re lucky you’re the one carrying the gun,” Stiles said.

“You can hit a moving target but can’t walk.”

Stiles grabbed his hand and let himself be pulled up. “Yeah, well remember that if we ever come face to face with a bear, cause your shooting skills will _definitely_ get us both killed.”

Derek put the gun down by the door and the half empty box of shells back on the shelf.

“I missed a call from Fred,” Stiles said, holding his phone up. He walked out onto the porch.

Derek tried not to listen in but failed. It was Monday and there was a chance Stiles' car was ready.

“Hey Fred, how’s it going?”

“Things are fine,” Fred grumbled. “I’m having some problems getting a couple parts...you’re looking at another week or so, also probably another grand.”

Stiles sighed, running his hand through his hair, tugging at it.

“Alright, thanks for the update... have a good one.”

“You too.”

The line clicked and Stiles stood with his back to the cabin, leaning his hands on the railing. “Fuck,” he exhaled.

Derek made himself busy, looking at the bills he had coming due. He’d have to go to the bank at some point that week.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly. He leaned against the doorframe. “Fred said it’ll be another week.”

Derek lowered the bill and sat on the bed. “That’s fine... unless you wanted stay elsewhere?”

“I just don’t want to impose... we’re strangers after all.”

It didn’t feel like they were. Based on Stiles’ expression, he was thinking the same thing.

“I’m good with it if you are,” Derek said.

Stiles smiled, small at first, before it broke into a bigger grin. “Yeah.”

Derek leaned back on the bed and stared at the water stain on the ceiling. Trying to predict how long he had until it caved down on him.

Stiles rustled through his bag at the end of the bed. “Question, how do you do laundry? I’ve got nothing clean left,” he asked.

Derek pushed himself up. “There’s a laundry mat in town, we could go now if you wanted.”

The old washing machine clunked away. They had both thrown in their own individual loads. Stiles used his laundry detergent. Now he’d really smell like Derek. He'd be lying if he said some part of him didn't like the prospect of that.

Stiles sat on the metal table and swung his legs. “You just wait for it to be done?”

“I usually go to the bar.”

Derek opened the door and they stepped out onto the busy street. Tourists and locals all walking around, enjoying the evening.

“Any other restaurants in this town?”

“Just one, it’s fancier though.”

Stiles lit a cigarette as they walked down the main street.

“Hey Derek," the local hardware store owner said as they passed. Him and his wife holding hands.

“Hey John, Leah.” Derek nodded.

Stiles glanced backwards at John and Leah. “It’s just like those small towns in the movies... where everyone knows each other.”

“Yeah. Sometimes it sucks,” Derek said. “Can’t ever just do a quick grocery shopping.”

Leaving Stiles outside to finish his cigarette, Derek walked into the bar. It was busier than last Monday, most tables and booths already taken.

“Hey Derek!” Erica wiped a table near the window. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” Derek sat down at the table she was wiping down. “You?”

“Good, you’re not sitting at the bar?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Not tonight.”

“What can I get you?”

“Two Heinekens please.”

Erica grinned. “Did you bring him?”

The door opened before he could reply and Stiles entered, smiling at Derek.

“Hey, sorry, one day I’ll quit.” Stiles sat down at the table. “Oh, –” Stiles looked up at Erica – “I’ll take a –”

“Heineken?” Erica said.

Stiles paused, his fingers mid-tap. “Uh. Yeah.”

Erica walked with a swing in her hips, Stiles watching her the whole way back to the bar.

“She’s married to the other owner,” Derek said, running his hand through his hair.

“What? That’s not – I’m gay,” Stiles said easily. “How’d she know what I want?”

“I already ordered.”

“Ah, I should’ve guessed that.” Stiles continued tapping a rhythm on the table. “So she’s your friend?”

“Yeah.”

A loud shout came from the bar and they looked over to see Larry arguing with a tourist. His words slurred from a day of drinking.

"Larry that's enough," Erica shouted. "Get out of the bar before I drag you out."

"Like you could do that, bitch," Larry said.

Derek watched the situation, he'd step in if he had to but he knew Erica could handle things on her own.

"Original... really." Erica leaned on the bar. "Now, get the hell out of my bar and don't make me tell you again." She stared at him, the threat clear in her eyes without a shift.

Larry stumbled away, knocking into a couple customers sitting nearby.

The tension disappeared from Erica as if a flick had been switched. The bar got loud again, the situation smoothing over, Erica smiled sheepishly at the tourist. "Sorry 'bout him, your meal's on us."

Derek and Stiles turned back to each other.

"He does that about once a week," Derek said.

Stiles nodded, looking back over at Erica silently.

A few minutes later Erica came back over and put the beers down on the table. “Sorry about all that, I’m Erica.”

“Oh so you’re the one that comes up with the good chicken names,” Stiles said.

She laughed. “I guess so.”

“Stiles.” He held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. “What are your intentions with our Derek?”

Derek glared at her, his cheeks warming.

Stiles laughed. “Well, I’m not too sure myself.” He winked at Derek. “Are you who I have to answer to if I break his heart?”

“Me... and my husband.” Erica hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

Boyd had come out of the kitchen. He hulked over the bar and gave a wave to the table when they looked over. Hearing the whole conversation, not that Stiles realized.

“Hmm.” Stiles flicked his gaze back to Erica. “I bet you’d do more damage.”

Erica patted Derek’s shoulder. “I like this one.”

“Right... I’ll have the usual,” Derek said.

“And for you Stiles?”

“I’ll also have the usual... well Derek’s usual, whatever that is.”

“Tall, blonde, –”

“Erica.” Derek shot her a look.

She smiled, shutting up. “The usual coming right up.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said.

Erica walked away to put in their orders.

Stiles leaned forward. “Tall, blonde, what else? Do tell.”

“Tourists that I’ll never see again,” Derek admitted.

“Women?”

Derek’s cheeks went hot. “And men.”

Stiles pursed his lips and nodded. “So, you spend your days working on the farm and your nights in this bar?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“How do you make money?” Stiles frowned. Then his face went into shock at his own question. “Sorry, that was really intrusive of me.” He leaned back in the chair.

“It’s alright, I have family money, investments, that sort of thing.”

“Enough you don’t have to work? Must be nice.”

“What do you do for work?”

Stiles shrugged. “Throughout college I worked at a computer repair shop. Now I’m newly graduated and unemployed.”

Erica refilled a customer's water at the table behind Stiles and she grinned at Derek, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Giving her a look that he hoped conveyed the message to leave him alone, he focused back on Stiles.

“What’d you take in college?”

“Computer science.”

“Must be a shock to be at my place without any of that?”

Stiles laughed, his eyes sparkling in the bar lights. “Yeah. A little, but also nice after being surrounded by them for four years... kinda like those weird hippie retreats that celebrities pay thousands of dollars for.”

“Where are you thinking of working?”

“If I was career oriented? Something in San Francisco. Silicon Valley baby, but... I hate those kinds of companies.”

“If you could do anything?”

Stiles resumed his tapping. “I actually don’t know... I took computer science because I had a knack for computers, didn’t actually think of anything beyond graduation.” Stiles focused on him. “What would you do? If you had to work?”

“I never said I didn’t work.”

“What do you do?”

“I make custom order furniture.”

“Really?” Stiles ran his eyes up and down Derek. “I could see that.”

Erica set their plates of food on the table. “He made us a dining set for our wedding gift, it’s gorgeous,” Erica said, placing two more beers down. “And to answer the question I know you’re thinking, he definitely looks good when he’s making the furniture.”

Derek’s face burned. “Erica that’s enough.”

“No,” Stiles said. He pointed at her. “That’s good information, please tell me more.” He leaned his chin on his hand, staring at Erica.

Erica leaned on the table. “Well, you see, when it’s hot out he decides he doesn’t need a shirt, so he’s just woodworking, muscles on full display –”

Boyd’s hand clamped around Erica’s shoulder and he pulled her up. “I’m Boyd, Erica’s _husband_.” He held out his hand.

Stiles grinned and shook his hand. “Stiles... sorry, she was just enlightening me on how Derek looks as a carpenter.”

“So good,” Erica whispered.

Derek drank half his beer in one go just to have something else to focus on than the situation at hand.

“I was thinking of going fishing on Wednesday, want to join me Derek?” Boyd asked, thankfully changing the conversation.

“Sure.”

“Fishing?” Stiles looked hopeful at the prospect.

“Only if you stop encouraging Erica.”

Erica pouted.

“Promise,” Stiles said to Derek, but winked at Erica and mouthed the words _not really_.

“All four of us should go!” Erica said. “We have the night off, we could do a barbecue after.”

“Fine,” Derek said.

“Yes!” Erica gently hit Stiles’ shoulder. “He’s never this fun without you.”

Derek wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Sometimes he hated having friends.

Not really though. As he watched Erica and Stiles laugh together over something Derek had just missed in the conversation. Boyd went back to the bar, serving drinks to the regulars. He was alone for a long time and it was nice having people in his life. As much as he hated when Erica tried to be - in her own words - his _wing-woman_.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey –” Stiles let out a wheeze – “I don’t have long.”

“Why are you breathing like that?” Allison asked.

Stiles kicked a pebble on the ground. “I’m on a run.”

The summer birds chirped away high up in the trees. Something that Stiles had first found annoying but he’d come to enjoy it. Among other things he shouldn’t be enjoying.

“What’ve you been doing? I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, I thought maybe something happened.”

“I’ve been waiting for my car to get fixed. Speaking of which, can you send me money? I know they gave you a lot more.”

“Just rent a car.”

“I don’t want it to be trackable, we’re talking about abduction...” Stiles paced across the trail. "That’s a felony."

“Never stopped you before.”

“Yeah well this time it’s different.”

“Stiles...” Allison's voice was tight with frustration.

He rubbed the back of his head, his hair wet with sweat. “Allison, he’s a good guy, we can’t just put him in harm’s way to save ourselves. Remember our code?”

“I think the Hale alpha can protect himself.”

“How’s Scott?” Stiles asked, changing the subject.

“He’s good. Still sleeping.”

“You guys are sure they don’t know where you are?”

“Yeah, disposable phone, took out enough cash, we’re good. But we need you to follow through on your part of the plan.”

“I’m trying.” Stiles sank down onto the ground. Every day he stayed, the harder it got to justify their plan. “What if we tried this without using Derek?”

“We’ve been trying that for over a month now, you have to put aside your personal feelings.”

“I don’t have personal feelings,” Stiles said. It came out like a goddamn lie. “But I have a conscience.”

“This is Scott we’re talking about,” Allison said.

As if Stiles didn’t know that. Like him and Scott hadn’t known each other longer than Scott and Allison had known each other. Like they weren’t best friends and hadn’t been through all the things they had together, or that Scott wasn’t the most important person to him.

“Yeah. Thanks for the reminder,” Stiles said bitterly. “Listen, for now you guys are safe, right?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s just wait for my car to be fixed and in the meantime, I’ll come up with a new plan. I’ll renew the search; you guys do what you can from the apartment. We’ll find her... but not like this.”

“We can’t stay locked up in this apartment forever, eventually it might come down to choosing between Scott and Derek.”

“I know.” The weight of that decision smothering him already. "Can you please send me money?"

Allison sighed. "How much do you need?"

"Five grand."

"What the hell did you do?"

" _I_ didn't do anything, a deer did it."

"A deer did it?" He could hear the amusement in Allison's voice.

"Yeah, I saw into its eyes Ally, it was pure soulless evil."

Her laughter was bright and loud and made him miss her.

“Be safe, I'll send the money to your private account," Allison said. "Text me more often so we at least know you’re alright.”

“You too, say hi to Scott for me.”

“Okay.”

Stiles hung up and ran his hand through his hair. Maybe he should find another place to stay. Separate himself from Derek. Not let himself get anymore attached than he already was. The problem? Stiles was weak.

For the first time since his mom fell sick, Stiles felt the heaviness reside. Just a bit. Being with Derek made everything that had happened before bearable. All his horrible mistakes. The death of his parents. Being raised by the Argents. The past nine years of being a hunter. It all faded to the background and Derek stood in front of it all.

He picked himself up off the ground and slid his phone into his pocket. Taking off in a slow jog back to cabin.

_Never stopped you before._ That was the problem.

Derek was shirtless, because of course he was, washing out the water trough in the horses’ field. The muscles in his back rippling with every scrub of the brush. 

Derek squinted up at him. “How was your run?”

“Fine.” Stiles stepped onto the lowest wood board and leaned on the fence, looking down at Derek. “Ever get tired of all this work?”

“No.” Derek tilted the trough over and dumped out the dirty water. He stood up and put the hose in the trough. “Mind turning that on?”

Stiles went over to the outdoor faucet at the cabin and turned the tap. He grabbed his smokes from the picnic table and pulled one out.

Derek walked back from the field. His skin literally glistening from sweat, even with the dirt smudged across his chest and face and the not so pleasant smell of barn on him, he was still easily the most attractive man Stiles had ever met.

He stopped next to the picnic table. “You alright?” Derek asked, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Right, werewolves could smell chemosignals or whatever. Stiles was probably a mess of anxiety and misery and guilt.

“Yeah, all good.” Stiles sucked in a breath of smoke.

Derek pushed back the hair that had fallen to his forehead. “I’m just going to get cleaned up and run some errands.”

“I can help.” He didn’t want to be left alone and Derek was a good distraction.

After they both showered - separately - Derek got Odie in the truck. His paws digging into Stiles’ thighs as he put his head out the open window. The wind rushed into the cab of the truck, the radio blasting old country music, most of which Stiles knew the lyrics to. He put his sunglasses on and ran his hand down Odie’s back. His earlier phone call fading away. 

Derek smiled over at him from the driver’s seat.

They picked up supplies for the animals from a store downtown and got another case of beer. Stiles made fun of Derek as he ran into the bank to pay his bills, telling him that there was such thing as online banking and that even someone’s grandparents probably didn’t use the bank to pay bills anymore. Derek just rolled his eyes.

As Derek pumped gas, Stiles watched him in the side-view mirror. Well, he mainly watched Derek's arms as the muscles bulged and twisted with Derek's movements. Odie settled onto the bench between Derek and Stiles, curled up in a perfect circle, his face twitching once in a while with a dream. 

Derek opened the driver’s door and got in. “Alright, I just have to get a few groceries,” he said, turning on the truck with a squeal of the belt.

Stiles pushed the cart while Derek put apples in reusable produce bags.

“Why don’t you just use the plastic bags they provide for free?” Stiles leaned his arms on the cart.

Derek finished putting the apples in the bag and placed them in the cart. “That’s a waste of plastic.” He grabbed another bag.

Stiles picked up a basket of local raspberries, checking for rotten ones before putting it in the cart.

“So, what’s your cooking specialty?” Stiles asked, following Derek through the store.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked, looking over at him.

“Like, if you wanted to impress a date or make a nice meal, what’s the fanciest thing you can cook?” Stiles asked.

“I usually just cook simple things. But I do know how to make my own ravioli from scratch, noodles and all.” Derek grabbed bananas.

“Nice. Love a good ravioli.”

After living with Gerard for years, Stiles had picked up some cooking skills and a penchant for gourmet food.

“How about you?” Derek turned around and gave him a smile. “What’s your specialty?”

“Catalan lamb chops with apricots and sage... sounds more impressive than it actually is.” Stiles tapped his fingers on the handle of the cart. “I actually know a lot of recipes that’s just one of my favorites.”

“Why aren’t you the one cooking the meals?” Derek raised his eyebrows playfully. “Instead of just watching me?”

“Because you look so much better than me when you cook.”

Derek blushed, dropping his chin down, a smile on his face. “Doubt that.”

Stiles knew he was decent looking. He had good qualities. But he wasn’t Derek Hale attractive and it still threw him off that Derek seemed to think he was good-looking.

“We should get a tub of ice cream!” Stiles said as they walked by the frozen aisle.

As they grocery shopped together, Stiles slipped into the fantasy of staying in the town with Derek, living a simple domestic life instead of the one he currently had. It wasn't the first time he'd thought about it. It was dangerous. Letting himself get involved like this. He definitely shouldn’t be out in the town, getting to know people in Derek’s life. If Derek suddenly went missing Stiles would be the number one suspect.

A small part of him knew the reason he wasn’t being smart about it was so that he’d have an excuse. A reason not to go forward with the plan.

* * *

Fishing was more successful in the early morning or late evening. But Erica just liked spending the day at the lake and not actually fishing, so they went mid-afternoon when the sun was at its hottest.

Him and Stiles met Boyd and Erica down at the lake. The small beach area already packed with tourists. Music played over the canteen’s speakers, country music – because the town had an image to sell. Kids screamed and laughed around them as parents lathered them with sunscreen and helped them build sandcastles.

Stiles looked thrilled with the scene before them. He bought them all ice cream and Derek distracted himself with the canoe rentals instead of watching Stiles lick the ice cream cone.

Erica and Stiles stood down near the water with the fishing gear talking to each other.

“I feel like it was a bad idea to introduce those two,” Boyd said.

Derek paid for the rentals. “She’s your wife.”

“That she is.” Boyd said it in a way that was both loving and exhausted.

They grabbed the lifejackets and threw them in the canoes before picking up a canoe in each hand, carrying them down to the water. Kicking off their shoes on the shore. The sand hot underneath his feet.

“Oh, we could’ve helped,” Stiles said, turning around. He ate the last bite of his cone.

“All good,” Derek said.

Stiles helped Derek put the tackle box, bucket, and two rods in the canoe. While Boyd and Erica got theirs ready.

“Have you ever canoed before?” Derek asked, looking up at Stiles.

The younger man stared at the boat uneasily, gnawing at his healed lip. “What do you think?” Stiles said.

The water was cool against his skin as he stepped in to hold the boat in the shallow water. “It’s simple, just climb in and sit down on the front bench.”

Boyd and Erica got in their canoe easily and paddled around near the shore.

“What do I do with my shoes?” Stiles looked down at his feet. 

“Just leave them on the shore.” Derek pointed to where the three of them had piled their shoes.

“They won’t get stolen?”

“Your shoes?” Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles' beaten up converses. The one shoe was thinning to the point Stiles' toe started to peak out at the edge.

“Fair enough.” Stiles pulled off his shoes and socks. “I guess it might be time to get a new pair, I’ve had those since I was sixteen.” He walked into the water and held the edge of the boat, swinging his leg over the side. The canoe shifted with Stiles’ weight and he let out a noise of panic.

“You’re fine, I’m holding it.” Derek hid his smile in his outstretched arm.

“If anyone’s going to flip a canoe, it’s going to be me.”

“All you have to do is stay seated and if you’re going to move around, do it slowly, you’ll be fine.” Derek pushed the canoe further out and climbed in, Stiles’ knuckles were white around the edge of the canoe as it swayed with Derek’s weight.

They paddled out to Boyd and Erica. Well, Derek did.

Stiles held the paddle and looked into the lake. “I see nothing.”

“That’s because the water is deep,” Derek said.

“Usual spot?” Boyd asked.

“Sure.” Derek steered the canoe towards the eastern part of the lake.

“Do you guys fish a lot?” Stiles asked, finally paddling.

“They usually just use it as an excuse to sit out on the lake for a while,” Erica said. "Away from nagging wives."

She had a point. A lot of times Jimmy and Fred joined them too.

“We go a few times per month,” Derek said. The sun beat down and he was starting to regret wearing a black t-shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it on the floor of the canoe with the lifejackets.

The area they liked to fish was popular with the locals. It was off the main area of the lake, where the weeds were thicker and the waters shallower. The shoreline was heavily populated with trees and gave reprieve from the blinding sun.

They stopped paddling when they got to the shade, the canoes drifting in the waters.

"We can start here," Boyd said, he grabbed his rod.

Erica looked at the sky. "I want sun."

"It's too hot," Boyd said.

"I came to tan," Erica said.

"Fish don't -" Boyd started to say before he sighed. "Okay, whatever." He moved them so they were out of the shade.

“There’s a spider!” Stiles shouted, standing up.

Derek grabbed the side of the canoe as the whole boat rocked. “Sit down you’re going to flip us.”

“I’m not sitting down with the spiders,” Stiles said. He flinched. “Oh shit, there’s another one.”

Erica cackled beside them. “You’re afraid of spiders?”

“Not _afraid_ – just not a fan.” Stiles shuddered. “Oh my god, Derek, what are you trying to do to me out here?”

Erica opened her mouth and Derek flicked the paddle towards her, splashing her with water.

“Another one!” Stiles shuffled around. The boat rocking again. “Did you even check the canoe?”

“Stiles, sit down,” Derek said.

They were going to end up in the water at this rate and Derek did not feel like trying to get Stiles back into a flipped canoe.

“Not until they’re gone.”

Boyd latched onto the side of their canoe and leaned over, scooping the spiders out.

“Oh my god, you’re –” Stiles gagged – “yup, you’re just scooping them out with your bare hands.”

“Wow Stiles, I didn’t realize you were such a wimp.” Erica laughed.

Stiles finally settled back down onto the bench. “Well here’s a fun little story of childhood trauma for you... I was like eight years old alright? My dad made me go on this hike with him and I got tired, so I laid down in the forest, next thing I know this giant fucking spider is crawling up my neck towards my ear.” Stiles' shoulders shuddered for the second time. “And now, I get that feeling whenever I see a spider.”

Erica laughed even harder.

“You two realize that you actually have to be quiet otherwise the fish get scared off, right?” Boyd said.

“You do realize that I have the attention span of the fish you’re trying to catch, right?” Stiles said, but fell quiet.

After Derek helped Stiles get started, they fished for a while. Him and Boyd both caught a couple keepers putting them in their buckets of water.

“I gotta take a piss,” Erica said. She was sitting on the floor of the middle of the canoe, stretched out in her bathing suit and reading a book. “Can you paddle to the shore?”

“Where are you going to go? It’s just all forest over here,” Boyd said.

“I’ll squat.” Erica climbed back onto her bench.

Boyd gave her an unimpressed look but paddled away from Stiles and Derek.

They were alone for a couple minutes before Stiles spoke. “This is actually fun, thanks for bringing me.”

“I take it you haven’t fished before?”

Stiles turned on the seat to look back at Derek, his eyes moving down Derek's bare chest for a second before he flicked his gaze back towards Derek's face. “Actually, I have... as a kid I fished a lot with my dad. But then my mom got sick and we couldn’t go... I haven’t been since I was six.”

“What was she sick with?”

Maybe with anyone else it would’ve been too personal to ask that kind of question.

“Frontotemporal dementia... took four years to kill her.” Stiles turned back around.

“That must’ve been hard.”

Stiles’ shoulders moved with a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t really remember a lot of it... I wasn’t old enough, not until near the end.” Stiles’ rod jerked in his hands. “I did it!” Stiles jumped up. His mood completely flipping. “I caught a fish!”

Derek steadied the canoe. “Start reeling it in.”

Stiles spun the reel and pulled the rod towards the canoe. “If it’s big do I have to keep it? I kind of feel bad.”

Derek laughed. “No, you don’t, you shouldn’t even be doing this without a license.”

A decent size bass broke through the water with a splash.

“Oh my god!” Stiles grinned. “It’s big!”

“A keeper,” Boyd said as they glided back over.

Stiles spun in the canoe. The whole boat shifted underneath them.

“You should sit down,” Derek said.

Stiles held the rod towards Derek, the fishing dangling between them. “Can you get it off for me?”

“Don’t –” Derek said loudly, shooting a look at Erica.

She snapped her mouth shut but a devilish grin spread across her face.

Stiles laughed. “I like how you knew it was coming.”

Erica lifted her hands up and widened her eyes as if they were torturing her.

“Lower your rod so I can reach,” Derek said.

Purposely making it more sexual than it needed to be just to bother Erica. She made a pained noise in her throat as Stiles dropped the rod lower.

Derek took the fish off the hook and carefully handed it to Stiles.

“Ew.” Stiles scrunched his nose up but held the fish near his face. “Sorry little guy.” The fish spasmed and Stiles yelped, stumbling backwards.

Derek didn’t have time to react. The canoe flipped and they both went in. The water cooled his sun-soaked skin and he broke through the surface.

Erica laughed from their canoe, even Boyd smiled widely at them in the water.

Stiles bobbed in the water in front of him. “Whoops.” He bit his lip.

Derek couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed. “I guess that’ll teach you not to stand up in a canoe,” he said with a laugh, splashing Stiles.

Stiles yelped and splashed him back. “I lost the rod... and the paddle.”

“And the fish I caught.”

“First the basket of eggs. Now the fish. You’re gonna kick me out, aren’t you?”

Derek passed Erica the paddle he managed to hold onto. Throwing the soaked lifejackets that floated nearby into their canoe.

“I’ll flip it over for you guys,” Boyd said.

Stiles moved over to where Derek treaded water.

Boyd twisted the canoe so it was perpendicular to his, dragging the one end up across the canoe. The water drained out.

“I told you I’d end up flipping it.” Stiles looked over at Derek. Amusement in his eyes.

Boyd pulled it out the rest of the way so it was completely resting across their canoe.

“And I told you to sit down,” Derek said.

Boyd flipped the canoe and pushed it back in the water.

“So... now we have to climb in?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go first.”

Boyd and Erica held the canoe on the opposite side and Derek easily lifted himself up and over the ridge.

When he got seated, he turned to Stiles in the water. “Just pull yourself up and wiggle into the canoe.”

“ _Just_.” Stiles reached up and gripped the side of the canoe, the muscles in his arms flexing under the tension.

“Grab the other side of the canoe now,” Erica said.

Stiles flashed her a dirty look. “I’m trying.” He reached out, wiggling his hips over the ridge of the canoe, missing the opposite edge.

Derek grabbed his arm as he started to slide back into the water. He looked up at Derek.

“Can’t you just pull me in?” he asked, the frustration clear in his voice.

Derek used both his hands to hold Stiles in a way he wouldn’t hurt the man’s arms and helped pull him into the canoe.

Stiles let out a deep breath. “Thank you.” He leaned back against his seat, sitting on the floor of the canoe. “I need a smoke.”

They headed back to the beach and Derek was glad he decided to wear his bathing suit instead of jeans. It took longer with just one paddle, he kept having to correct the trajectory of the canoe. Stiles’ shirt clung to his body as he laid on the floor of the canoe and watched Derek paddle. His body was less skinny then it looked in his dry clothes.

Derek held Stiles’ arm as he got out of the canoe.

Boyd and Erica pulling their fishing stuff out of the canoe.

“Well that makes for an easy clean up.” Stiles raised his shoulders sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looked down at his bare chest. “I just realized my shirt is gone.”

“I’m sure there’s at least one of us here who doesn’t mind that.” Erica’s lip twitched with a smirk, looking over at Stiles, holding out their lifejackets.

Stiles flushed. “Oh Boyd, are you gonna let her oogle Derek like that?” Stiles grabbed the dripping lifejackets from Erica, not looking at Derek.

“She wasn’t talking about herself,” Boyd said with a completely straight face.

Stiles ducked his head down, the back of his neck was red from either embarrassment or a sunburn it was hard to tell. He pulled on his shoes.

Derek and Boyd carried the canoes while Erica and Stiles carried the other supplies. Derek paid for the lost paddle and safety kit.

Stiles leaned against the truck and smoked. “That was certainly an eventful fishing trip.”

“Are we good to come over now?” Erica asked.

“Yeah sure.” Derek loaded the bucket of fish into the back of his truck. “We’ll meet you there.”

While Derek barbecued dinner, Boyd cleaned his fish at a plastic table Derek had near the barn for that exact purpose. The other two were with the hens, they'd offered to collect the eggs and feed the hens. Derek was a little nervous to leave them alone, Erica could never keep her mouth shut.

Boyd came up on the porch with the fish, putting them in Derek’s fridge and grabbing out a beer.

“How long is Stiles in town for?” Boyd asked, sitting down on a chair.

“I don’t know, at least until his car is fixed.”

“Seems like a pretty good guy.”

“Yeah he is.” Derek flipped the kebobs and closed the lid, sitting down next to Boyd. “How’d Erica do with the full moon this time?”

“Big improvement from all the ones before... thank you. For your help.” Boyd gave him a look, the weight of the words only apparent to the two of them.

Derek clasped his shoulder, squeezing.

Odie was the first to come back, sprinting towards Derek and Boyd on the porch.

Stiles and Erica rounded the barn, laughing in the evening light. The air had started to cool a bit, the breeze picking up.

“Mother Clucker pecked Stiles,” Erica said as they came up the steps.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, it was more of a nip then anything," Stiles said with laughter in his voice. "That’ll teach me not to tease her.”

“Anybody want a beer?” Erica asked.

Stiles held his hand out in front of her, blocking her from the cabin. “Hey, it’s your night off. I’ll get it. Who wants one?”

“I’m good.” Derek smiled at him.

Boyd just lifted his own beer to indicate it was still full.

Stiles disappeared into the cabin.

Erica leaned down towards Derek’s ear. “You need to get on that.”

Derek pushed her head away. She laughed, sitting down on Boyd’s lap.

“Will you leave him alone?” Boyd asked, squeezing her bare thigh.

“No.” Erica pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

Stiles came out with the beers and handed one to Erica. He leaned against the railing in front of Derek.

“I think I got sunburned on my shins.” Stiles stuck his leg out, the skin a bright red.

“And your face.” Erica pointed at him.

“I told you to wear sunscreen,” Derek said. Even offered to stop by the drugstore to pick some up but Stiles insisted he'd be fine.

Stiles poked his red face. “Ouch.”

“Are you guys going to come to karaoke tomorrow night?” Erica asked. Not looking at Derek because she knew that he hated karaoke night. 

Stiles’ eyes lit up. “Karaoke?”

Erica traced a red fingernail across Boyd’s arm. “In the summer we do Thursday night karaoke at the bar, it’s always packed.”

Stiles looked at Derek, tilting his head to the side. “Well I can’t say no to that.”

The four of them sat together with their empty plates on the picnic table. Dusk settled in around them as the sun slowly disappeared behind the trees.

“Where are you guys originally from? Sounds like a faint Chicago accent,” Stiles said.

“Born and raised,” Erica said. “Both of us.”

“Why’d you move here?” Stiles lit his cigarette, moving away from the picnic table.

“The same reason anybody moves to this town, to get away from their other life,” Erica said.

“Did you and Boyd meet in your other life?”

Erica nodded. “My twenty-first birthday, he was the bartender... I had a seizure in the bar and he helped me.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “A seizure?”

“Yeah, I have epilepsy.”

“Really?”

“Medicine isn’t a hundred percent effective but it’s gotten better over the years.” Erica glanced at Derek. “Haven’t had a seizure in a while.”

Stiles nodded, his gaze lingering on Derek. “That’s good... what made you guys choose this town?”

“It was cheap,” Boyd said.

“And had a bar for sale... I had just finished a business degree and with Boyd having experience as a bartender and manager, seemed like a safe choice.” Erica brushed her fingers through her long hair. “Turned out to be better than we expected.”

Stiles and Erica put on Fleetwood Mac. Dancing and singing along to it as they cleaned up from dinner. The four of them had a fire and it was just past midnight when Erica and Boyd left for home.

Derek could too easily get used to this life.

Stiles laid down on the couch, wearing his usual t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Derek didn’t know how he wore that to bed every night. It was always hot in the cabin and after a full day in the sun, Derek’s skin was always too sticky to sleep with clothes on.

“They seem like a good match,” Stiles said. “Really love each other too, eh?”

“Yeah.” Derek stripped off his shirt and jeans. “I was the witness at their wedding.”

“When was that?”

“About four years ago.” Derek crawled into bed, pulling just the sheet over the lower half of his body. “Boyd didn’t come from the best family so it’s nice to see him happy.”

“Yeah.”

Laying there in silence for a few moments, Derek rolled onto his side, Odie’s soft fur against his back.

“Goodnight Stiles.”

“Night... thanks for taking me fishing, sorry I lost your fish.”

Derek laughed softly. “It’s all good, Boyd left us some of his.”

Falling asleep happened quicker now with the sounds of Stiles’ breathing and heartbeat in the cabin. He’d gotten so used to the man’s presence he didn’t know how he’d go back to an empty place.


	7. Chapter 7

Karaoke was in full swing by the time they got there. The bar crowded with locals and tourists, most of them already well on their way to super drunk. All hands-on deck as they served drinks and food. A group of guys terribly sang _Man! I Feel Like a Woman_. They looked familiar so they must’ve been from the area.

Stiles grinned. “This happens every Thursday?” he yelled.

“Yeah.”

Two women walked by Derek and smiled. In return, he flashed them a polite smile before gently pushing on Stiles’ lower back guiding him towards the only unclaimed booth. Stiles slid into the side of the booth he could see the karaoke stage from and grabbed Derek’s arm, pulling him down.

A blush crossed Stiles’ face. “So I can actually hear you,” he said.

Seconds later, Erica slid into the booth across from them. “I know I shouldn’t complain, but sometimes I hate these nights.”

“It’s awesome!” Stiles said. “I’ve never been to a karaoke night before.”

“Are you gonna get up there and sing?” Erica asked.

“Only if Derek does.” Stiles looked at him.

“There’s no way I’m doing that,” Derek said.

Stiles laughed. “Perfect then I don’t have to.”

“I should get back, what can I get you guys?” Erica asked.

“I’ll have a Heineken,” Stiles said.

She looked at Derek.

“Same for me thanks,” he said.

Erica nodded and walked away, grabbing empty glasses from the high tables.

“Do you come to the karaoke nights a lot?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head. “Not really my thing.”

“Lots of tourists for you though, don’t think I missed those women when we first came in... is it always that easy for you?”

Derek shrugged. “With women it’s easier... men in a small town, it’s a little more difficult.”

“Yeah true.” Stiles watched the new group of singers with amusement. “The one girl is actually a good singer.”

Erica brought them back their beers.

Heat radiated off Stiles, his side almost pressed against Derek's as he drank his beer, getting more comfortable with sharing personal space.

“How much do you hate this?” Stiles asked. “Country music being sung terribly by drunk people?”

Derek laughed. “Doesn’t bother me.”

As long as Stiles was next to him with that smile, he didn’t think much would bother him.

Stiles was on his second beer when Ruby sat down across from them.

“Hey boys! How are you two doing tonight?”

“We’re good, where’d you ditch Jimmy?” Stiles asked.

“Over there with some of his old work friends.” Ruby gestured behind her. “They can go on forever about construction supplies. It’s awful.”

Derek took Ruby’s presence as a chance to sit back and just watch everything going on. Beth cleared tables and brought in orders to the kitchen. Boyd worked behind the bar, pouring drinks and getting them ready on trays. Erica and Sally ran drinks and food to people.

Every time Erica got back to the bar, Boyd flashed her a smile and her eyes softened in response. Even after years together and running a bar in a small town, they still were deeply in love. A young Ruby and Jimmy.

Erica came over. “Hey Ruby, how’s the knee?” She set two new beers down on the table. Holding the full tray of drinks easily in just one hand.

“Better. Thanks for the advice to try that cream, worked like a charm.”

“I’m glad..." She got a smile on her face that said she was going to cause trouble. "Did you know that Stiles here said he wasn’t gonna get up and sing?”

“What?” Ruby turned to Stiles. “You aren’t gonna accompany an old lady up on that stage?”

Stiles laughed. “I’d need about three more of these.” He pointed at his beer.

“You heard the man,” Ruby said to Erica. “Six shots of whiskey.”

“Woah, wait –”

“Don’t worry dear, three are for me.” Ruby winked.

Erica picked up the empty beer glasses. "Sure thing." 

A few moments later, Erica carried over the shots and placed them in front of Stiles and Ruby.

Stiles rubbed his face and slapped the table. “Alright, fine.”

The two of them cheers’d the shots and downed them all in a row. Ruby grinning as Stiles coughed.

“Oh god, it’s been a while since I’ve done shots,” Stiles said. “Okay –” Stiles wiped his mouth – “let me have a smoke and then we’ll do this.”

“I’ll go put a song on the list, what do you want to sing?” Ruby asked.

“I know basically any and all new country.”

“ _All My Favorite People_?”

“That’s perfect!” Stiles shouted. His eyes starting to droop a bit. “You good?” He squeezed Derek’s bicep, he must’ve been feeling the alcohol because he was usually never that forward.

Derek smiled. “All good.”

“Meet you at the stage, partner,” Ruby drawled.

Derek stood up so Stiles could get out and Stiles flashed him a nervous smile before disappearing into the crowd with Ruby.

A woman with bleach blonde hair and full red lips slid into the booth across from him. He could smell the weed and vodka on her as she leaned on the table.

"Hey, I'm Teagan," she said. Confidence in her words and body.

Normally Derek would like that, he didn't have a problem with women who were forward, he liked cutting out all the bullshit.

"Derek," he said.

"My friends and I are here for a bachelorette party," she said, pointing over towards a high table where a group of girls stood in matching shirts. They watched the two of them intensely, not even bothering to pretend like they weren't.

"Tell the bride congratulations."

"You could tell her yourself, if you wanted to join us... we were thinking of heading to the lake for a late-night swim," she said.

"Thanks for the offer but I'm here with a friend."

"That man you were sitting with? He's welcome to join."

"I think we'll pass this time." Derek started to shift with discomfort. He wished she'd give up easier. "Thanks though."

"Right, well if you change your mind... we're in town all weekend," she said. Sliding a napkin with a number written on it across the table, she winked before leaving the booth.

He stared at the napkin on the table.

Erica joined him at the booth as Stiles and Ruby stepped onto the stage.

"She seemed like your type," Erica said. "Very confident."

"Yes." Derek folded the napkin and put it in his pocket, not wanting Stiles to see it.

Erica raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

“Stiles is fitting in pretty well,” Erica said.

“Yeah.” Derek smiled as he watched Stiles and Ruby talk to each other, organizing the microphones.

“You guys bang yet?”

Derek rubbed his beard with exasperation. “Do you ever get sick of being crass?”

“No, so what’s the answer?”

“We haven’t.”

“Dammit.”

“What?” Derek narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you and Boyd bet on it.”

“Not Boyd, have you gotten any action?”

Stiles’ voice came over on the microphone. “I wanna dedicate this song to all my new friends, but especially to Derek!” He drunkenly pointed across the room towards Derek, swaying towards the mic.

Derek dipped his head as a few people looked over towards the booth.

Erica hid her grin in her hand.

As the guitar started, the crowd cheered already knowing the song.

Ruby started alone. “ _Not everybody drinks on a Tuesday night, mixes their liquor with Crystal Light_.” She wasn’t completely tone deaf which made the drunk slurring bearable. “ _With a couple of friends they called out of the blue...”_

The song was oddly catchy and the first country song Derek liked. It probably had more to do with the smile plastered across Stiles’ face than anything else though. He danced around the stage ridiculously but somehow pulled it off at the same time. His hands running down his chest as he swung his hips around.

Derek wondered what it'd feel like to be able to touch him like that. What his skin would feel like underneath Derek's hands. How his hips would move if Derek was in him.

The crowd joined in on the chorus, Stiles finally lifting the mic to his mouth and singing loudly. Him and Ruby wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders and swaying.

The second verse came around, Ruby smacking Stiles on the ass. “ _Come on, TJ_!” she yelled into the mic.

Stiles started singing, lowering his voice but somehow on beat. Erica cheered and whistled. And Derek wasn’t even embarrassed watching him dance around, giving a drunken smirk to the crowd as he slurred the lyrics.

The chorus came again, everyone in the bar chiming in and dancing. Stiles’ eyes found Derek and he smiled, pointing towards Derek as he sang. _Well, I don't know about them, but I know about us, it is what it is and we love who we love._

“And you’re telling me you guys haven’t banged yet,” Erica said.

Ruby took Jimmy’s cowboy hat from where he sat and placed it on Stiles’ head.

When Derek first came to this town he found it funny that people actually wore cowboy hats. Eventually he caved, wearing one when the sun was beating down, he still thought of them as corny. But suddenly he understood, watching Stiles with one on.

Erica’s eyebrows shot up and she looked at him.

“Don’t,” Derek said lowly.

She held up her hands. “I wasn’t gonna say anything... if you need a cold shower, ours is right upstairs.”

Derek scowled. “Shut up.”

“Then stop doing what you’re doing. It’s weird when I’m right next to you.”

Stiles caught his eye again across the crowd giving him a wink and tilting the hat towards Derek as he sang the chorus.

He couldn’t get the thought of Stiles in a cowboy hat, riding Derek, out of his head. His back arched and a flush down his chest.

“Oh my god!” Erica stood up. “You made it worse.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Do you know how bad you and Boyd are?”

During the instrumental solo, Ruby and Stiles put their backs together and pretended to play air guitars. Both of them were light-hearted people. Could've been the alcohol, but they didn't seem to care what anybody thought and Derek admired that about them. 

The song finished, Stiles and Ruby took a bow as the crowd cheered loudly. Erica whistled for them before shooting Derek a dirty look while walking away.

People patted them on the back as they pushed through the crowd. Stiles smiled, saying hi to everybody. His face relaxed as the familiar sparkle appeared in his eyes. Jimmy trailed behind them and the three of them piled into the booth.

“Well?” Stiles put his one arm on the table and the other up on the back of the bench, boxing Derek in. 

“You guys did a good job... for a country song,” Derek smirked.

Stiles grinned. “You loved it.” He poked him in the chest.

“Stiles, you’re quite the karaoke partner,” Ruby said.

Stiles took off the hat and hung it on the hook at the end of the booth. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”

Ruby and Stiles shouted over the music at each other. Talking about concerts they’ve seen, their favorite bands, a lot of them matching up even though their ages were decades apart.

As the night went on, nobody had been around to serve them in quite a while and Stiles stood up.

“Alright, what does everyone want?” He pointed at Ruby.

“I’ll take another whiskey and coke.”

Stiles pointed at Jimmy.

“Beer,” he said, holding up the glass.

Stiles looked at Derek.

“Water’s good.”

Stiles headed towards the bar and disappeared into the crowd.

Ruby looked at Derek expectantly. He ignored her. Already knowing what she'd say.

“So, Jimmy, any good fishing recently?” he asked.

Jimmy shrugged. “Same as most years.”

“That means he sits in his boat for half the day and finishes a six pack while dragging a hook-less line through the water,” Ruby said.

“It has a hook,” Jimmy said. “Just doesn’t have a lure.” He laughed with the wheeze of a long-time smoker.

Derek smiled. “We went fishing yesterday. Boyd caught a couple keepers, Stiles tipped our canoe so we lost the few I caught.”

Ruby laughed. “You two sure seem to be getting along.”

“He gets along with everybody.”

Ruby patted his hand. “Yeah, but when he looks at you he’s got the look.”

“The look?”

“Yeah. The one men get when they’re in love... Jimmy’s had it for fifty-two years now.”

Jimmy put his arm around Ruby’s shoulder squeezing her into his chest. “Not for the lack of trying to get rid of it though.”

Ruby playfully batted at his chest.

Derek knew that Stiles was attracted to him. Could literally smell it at times. But love? It’d only been two weeks.

“Where is that boy anyways?” Ruby looked into the crowd.

Derek looked towards the bar and froze. Stiles stood at the end and talked with Tim, an off-duty sheriff’s deputy who lived a couple towns over. Tim leaned against the bar casually and smiled as Stiles chatted away. Their drinks sitting neglected on the bar.

Unjustified jealously flared up in his throat. Stiles wasn’t his by any means and Derek had to stop himself from getting up and going over.

Tim handed Stiles a card and Stiles shook his hand, giving him a big smile. He awkwardly picked up the drinks and carried them over.

“There you are!” Ruby said.

“Did you see that?” Stiles looked at Derek excitedly.

Derek tilted his head, not sure what he was referring to. Stiles flirting with Tim? Getting his number? He didn’t see why –

“I just carried four glasses full of drinks and didn’t drop or spill a single one.” Stiles slid into the booth.

Ruby took out her wallet and handed him some cash.

“Nope –” Stiles pushed it back to her – “these are on me, cause guess what? I just got a job.”

“A job?” Derek frowned.

“Yeah... I mean it’s a one-time gig, but it’s money...” Stiles shrugged. “A sheriff’s deputy – uh Tim I think – just asked me for help with the station’s security system.”

“The station in this town?” Ruby asked.

The only station in this town was a single room with one computer from the nineties. There was a bench that they handcuffed drunks to so they could sober up. If someone got arrested for a serious crime they had to drive them to the county jail.

“No... I guess it’s like some town forty minutes away or something.” Stiles took a sip of his beer. “The main station for the county.”

Derek knew the town he was talking about. It was the station that Tim worked at.

“Can I borrow your truck tomorrow? I shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.” Stiles looked at him with big hopeful eyes.

“I can take you, they have a few shops I like there.” He definitely wasn’t going to keep an eye on Stiles and Tim.

“Sure,” Stiles said with a smile.

Two drinks later, Ruby and Jimmy left. The crowd started to fade. Erica brought them out onion rings and Stiles’ eyes were half shut in the booth.

After finishing the food, they said their goodbyes and stepped out into the stifling night air.

Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist. “‘m tired,” Stiles slurred, leaning against Derek. “So tired.”

He lips brushed across Derek’s neck. Inciting more of a reaction from Derek’s body than any intentional sexual touch ever had.

He helped Stiles walk over to the truck and drove them home. Stiles’ chatter filling the cab of the truck, opposite of his quiet drive home the night he’d found Stiles.

“Mm... why is this town so fun?” Stiles mumbled. “Shouldn’t be fun... the people are so great. Like Ruby! How cool is Ruby? _So_ cool Derek. Don’t worry I think you’re cool too –” he poked Derek’s side and Derek squirmed away – “but Ruby... like you’d think an old lady living in this town would definitely be a homophobe but she’s not. She likes us... likes me. And Jimmy. He’s cool... rough tough redneck who doesn’t care that I’m gay? Cool.”

Stiles got quiet. “They remind me of my parents. If they were still alive, Jimmy and Ruby are what I imagine they would’ve been like when they got older. I miss ‘em. So much some days I think I’m gonna go crazy. Why do I miss them so much after ten years? I really didn’t even know them.”

Derek knew that Stiles had lost his mom but he hadn’t talked about his dad too much. Based on that Derek figured his dad had passed too but never asked. Didn’t want the same questions asked about his own parents.

Derek reached his hand out, placing it on Stiles’ thigh, trying to offer some comfort.

Stiles looked over at him and gave him a small smile. “You’re so good. Why are you so good?” Stiles frowned.

Derek didn’t know what he meant by that. He squeezed Stiles’ leg and retracted his hand, Stiles frantically grabbing it.

“Good, good man.” Stiles laid his head against the door and drifted, Derek’s hand still in his.

Derek helped him into the cabin and he fell face first down onto the couch. Odie jumping on him excited with the return of people. Stiles giggled, turning over.

“I love you Odie,” he slurred.

Odie licked his face.

“Except when you do that.” Stiles wiped his cheek.

“Odie!” Derek stood with the door open and the dog ran out.

“You took away my friend.” Stiles pouted, his eyes still shut.

“Otherwise he might pee on you.” Derek poured a glass of water and put it on the coffee table for Stiles.

“Thanks.”

Derek brushed his teeth and called Odie in. He stripped down to his underwear, crawling into the bed.

A warm breeze wandered in from the window above the bed and Derek started to drift off when Stiles’ outline loomed over him.

“What’s up?” Derek asked.

Wordlessly, Stiles laid down on the bed, Odie between the two of them.

“Better,” Stiles said, reaching his hand out over the dog and latching onto Derek’s bicep. “Big muscles.” Stiles drunkenly giggled. “Big strong cowboy.”

Derek’s skin felt alive under Stiles’ touch and he tried to push away the arousal coursing through him.

“‘m glad I crashed my car,” Stiles whispered. His breaths evening out.

Derek stared at the man wondering how he could feel so much for someone he’d just met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics quoted in this chapter are from All My Favourite People by Maren Morris ft. Brothers Osborne.


	8. Chapter 8

His head pounded with a hangover from the night before. Got a little more drunk than he intended to. Thankfully - and miraculously - not saying anything that gave him away.

He jumped out of the truck and waved to Derek. Standing outside of the police station, he lit up a cigarette and took comfort in the sharp smoke burning his throat. Allison called and he sent it to voicemail. Two weeks and he was still no closer with knowing what to do.

He let the finished smoke fall to the ground and stubbed it out with his foot before entering the station.

Tim greeted him at the door. He knew that Tim been flirting with him at the bar last night. And he certainly didn’t miss Derek’s tight look at the mention of Tim. The same kind of reaction Tim had when Stiles met him in the coffee shop and told him that he was staying at Derek's place. Probably ex-boyfriends of some sorts.

He wasn’t interested in Tim. The guy seemed nice but Stiles chose to be with guys he actually had feelings for, he wanted sex to mean something when he had it. With Derek it’d probably mean something. A whole lot of somethings he couldn’t think about right now.

“Does that make sense?” Tim asked, looking at Stiles.

He realized he’d been zoned out the entire time. “Uh...” Stiles tried to scrape together the gist of the conversation. “Yeah. I think I got it.”

“The summarized list of what we want is right there.” Tim pointed to a paper on the desk. “I’ll check in soon, here’s the log-in you’ll need.” Tim handed him a sticky note and lingered. Watching as Stiles sat down at the lone desk in a small room.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked, leaning back in the chair.

“Derek has a reputation.”

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up. “Okay.”

“For sleeping with basically any tourist that lets him.” Tim rubbed the back of his neck. “I just think you should be careful.”

“You’re warning me about... Derek... the guy who took me in with no benefit of his own for two weeks?” Stiles bit his lip hard to stop himself for saying anything more.

He needed all the money he could get and they were paying him in cash. Without checking his ID. Not the most adept police station apparently.

“He might just expect a different form of payment.”

“Right.”

“I better get back to work, maybe we can get some lunch later.”

“Maybe.” Stiles stared at him as he left the room.

It pissed him off more than it should. The things Tim had said about Derek. Something definitely happened between the two of them.

Derek was attracted to Stiles. He wasn’t oblivious, but Derek also hadn’t made a move. At all. And he knew there wasn’t any part of Derek that would demand repayment in the form of sex. Or any other way for that matter.

Stiles turned to the computer while reading over the to-do list. It was all basics that the police station should’ve already had. He finished it in a couple hours – slow internet the only thing making it take longer – and tapped his fingers on the desk.

He shouldn’t. It was probably illegal. But he couldn’t help it. He searched the records for murders over the past ten years. Only two. A woman killed by her drunk, abusive husband. And a man accidentally shot in home invasion gone wrong.

He looked at any suspicious deaths. Nothing. A few animal attacks but none of them screamed werewolf.

Three werewolves living in a small town for a decade and no deaths? The Argents would say that was suspicious.

Maybe the bodies were just never found? But even as Stiles looked through missing persons he knew that there’s no way they were murdering people. They were good people. Normal, innocent people with friends and jobs and interests. Lives that were important. And they were being hunted like animals.

Only a couple missing people over the past decade. A girl found alive and safe in the woods and according to the report the person who found her was _Derek_. A man who wandered away drunk, found dead in the lake. Two more that were never found but presumed to have run away together.

Not for the first time since arriving at Derek’s, Stiles felt the waves of panic dragging him under. The past ten years of his life had been a lie. He’d been given a gun and told to shoot.

And he _did_.

* * *

Derek went to the store and grabbed new fishing gear since his had all gone overboard. Afterwards he went into a few clothing stores and got a couple new shirts and jeans. A new pair of boots for when his wore out which would probably be sometime this upcoming fall. Lastly, he stopped in at the bakery. Getting some baked goods he thought Stiles might like.

The entire time spent trying not to think about Stiles working with Tim. It was irrational and controlling. He hated the feeling. Stiles wasn’t his. As much as he repeated it in his mind, the possessive jealously still ran through him. Clawing its way out of his stomach.

He’d woken up that morning with Odie gone from between them. Stiles spread starfish across the bed, his leg wrapped up with Derek’s legs, his arm up across Derek’s chest and hand resting against Derek’s face. Everything smelled like Stiles and he couldn’t stop his body from reacting. Thankfully, Stiles was still out from all the alcohol the night before so Derek was able to slide out from under his limbs. He turned on a cold shower but when that didn’t work he caved and jerked himself off for the first time since Stiles had been living with him.

Stiles had made no indication he wanted anything more. Sure, he was attracted to Derek and made comments. He also seemed to enjoy hanging out with Derek. Anytime the two of them got close and Derek thought about just closing the distance and kissing him though, Stiles seemed to sense it and backed away. Pulling out a cigarette or cracking a joke.

Derek didn’t understand it. But he also didn’t want Stiles to feel pressured to do anything just because Derek gave him a place to stay.

Eventually, he parked the truck at the station and waited for Stiles to be done. That was the issue with not having a phone, he just had to wait around. With the windows rolled down, he sorted the fishing gear into the new tackle box.

Just after three p.m., the front doors opened and out came Stiles with Tim following. They stood near the doors talking. Derek put away the fishing supplies, placing it on the floor of the truck with his other purchases.

Stiles threw his head back with a laugh, his sunglasses pushed back into his hair, and Tim put his hand on Stiles’ arm.

Derek's claws dug into his palms. This time, he couldn’t stop himself. Getting out of the truck and walking over to the front entrance, he stood behind Stiles.

Tim’s eyes widened at the sight of Derek, probably not expecting him, and Stiles turned his head slightly.

“Hey,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Derek. How are you?” Tim asked, tight-lipped.

Derek forced a smile. “Fine,” he said.

Stiles frowned. “Tim was just telling me about the party next Friday.”

“Yeah, should be fun.” He tore his eyes from Tim, his smile softening to a genuine one as he looked at Stiles. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah...” Stiles said. “Bye Tim, thanks for today.”

Tim looked like he wanted to say something, he opened his mouth and then looked at Derek, snapping it shut. “Thanks for your help,” he finally said.

As they walked to the truck, Derek forced himself to keep his hands at his sides instead of wrapping a possessive arm around Stiles’ shoulders. He could feel the stare of Tim so he glanced back. Tim turned away as Derek’s eyes met his, going into the station.

Stiles slid into the truck. A second didn’t even pass from the moment they got in. “Holy shit, you guys totally fucked,” Stiles blurted out.

Derek could feel the blush spread down his cheeks into his neck. “A while ago.”

Tim was the inspiration behind his _tourists only_ rule.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Stiles slid the sunglasses onto his face and sunk down into the seat. “Just... he warned me that you’re quite the serial dater.”

“He warned you. About me.” Derek clenched his jaw. What a fucking hypocrite. 

“Yeah.”

Derek turned the key, the transmission squealing in protest as the truck rumbled to life.

“You need a new belt,” Stiles said.

“What?”

“On the truck, the belt.” Stiles gestured towards the hood as if his words were self-explanatory.

“Oh. How’d you know that?” Derek turned onto the main road.

“The sound it makes when it starts, I’ve also noticed it when you accelerate,” Stiles said. “Did you offer to come with me because you and Tim had sex?”

Derek’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“Derek?” Stiles’ fingers brushed across the back of his hand with just a split second of contact.

Derek looked over. “After we had sex, he harassed me for months because he didn’t want me saying anything, which I never would've anyways. It got to the point I almost had to file a restraining order. I just didn’t want you to end up in the same situation, but I also didn’t want you turning down the job.”

“I wouldn’t have sex with him.” Stiles' eyes widened. “Not that it’s bad you did.”

“Well it was a little bad.” Derek cracked a smile. It’d been awkward and weirdly shameful.

Stiles snorted. “Not worth it?”

“Definitely not. I’m sorry, if I was weird about this.”

“All good. Protecting my honor, it’s nice.”

“I was not.”

“Whatever you say cowboy.” Stiles grinned. He swung his legs up on the dashboard.

“Don’t do that, if we get in an accident you’ll lose your legs.”

“Dude, if we get in an accident in this truck we’re gonna lose a lot more than our legs.” But Stiles lowered them to the floor anyways and picked up the paper bag from the ground. “What’d you get?”

“Some stuff from a bakery I like.”

“You came all the way here to get some muffins?”

“And to protect your honor.” Derek smiled.

Stiles laughed and took out a muffin. “Can I have one?”

“Yeah.”

“What I don’t get –” Stiles said through a mouthful of muffin – “oh fuck this is good –” he swallowed his bite – “what I don't get is that he’s married... you don’t strike me as the type of man to sleep with married people.”

“He wasn’t married when we had sex, wasn’t even dating her yet.”

“Huh.” Stiles looked at the bags on the ground. "What’d else you get?"

“Fishing gear and some clothes.”

Stiles leaned back in the seat and watched the passing landscape. “Are you gonna take me to this tailgate party?”

Derek smiled at the thought that Stiles would still be around by then. “Do you want to go?”

“Only if you’re going be there.” Stiles ate half the muffin in one bite.

Derek rolled his eyes but a fondness for the man sunk its way into his chest. “Sure, we can go.” 

“You know... you seem to have a reputation,” Stiles said, not looking over at Derek.

“I know.” Derek did his best to ignore it. He also didn’t try hard to dissuade any of the rumors.

“Is it true?” Stiles looked at him now.

Derek tilted his head, focusing back on the road. “Small town, bored people... and I don’t go out of my way to hide things.”

“I’ve heard plenty about the Derek Wilson date.”

Derek laughed. “I guess I don’t have a creative streak when it comes to dates.”

“Is there a reason I haven’t been taken on a _Derek Wilson_ date? Am I not touristy enough?” Stiles quirked an eyebrow up, he was kidding, but his eyes watched Derek curiously. Like he actually wanted to know the answer. “Not blond enough?”

“You don’t do casual,” Derek said.

“I don’t.” Stiles almost seemed disappointed.

And casual was all that Derek did. It scared the fuck out of him that he was considering something more serious with Stiles. Someone who meant more to him than most people did after two weeks.

* * *

Stiles pulled on his joggers and t-shirt. He’d been too hungover to run that morning but now the headache had eased up and he wasn’t pushing down the urge to vomit.

“I’m going for a run,” Stiles said as he came out of the bathroom. “Probably won’t be long though.”

“Okay,” Derek said. He leaned against the kitchen counter and ate a muffin. “Take Odie with you, he’s been chained up all day.”

“Sure.” Stiles slipped on his running shoes and left the cabin. He whistled for Odie.

He bolted over from the horses’ field, jumping up on Stiles.

Stiles pushed him away. “Dude, let’s go for a run.” He didn’t bother stretching before taking off into the forest, the cool air a welcomed change to the smothering heat.

_You don’t do casual._ Derek’s words came back to him as he tried not to think about anything. Did that mean if Stiles did do casual that Derek would sleep with him? That all of Derek’s looks of longing and intimate conversations and the something _more_ that Stiles felt was all in Stiles’ head? Was he here, wasting time for someone who’d never feel the same?

His foot hit the ground at a bad angle and a sharp pain ran up his leg. “Shit,” he groaned, coming to a stop.

Odie kept running ahead. He called for the dog but Odie didn’t come back.

A movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he looked through the thick growth of the forest. Something watched him.

A deer, just like the one he almost hit, stood only a few feet away. Round, wide-eyes stared at him and a hint of uneasiness hit him. It was calm. Too calm for a wild animal.

He stepped forwards, slowly, not knowing what possessed him to do so and the deer stayed still.

The forest was quiet around them. No birds or crickets or frogs. Leaves didn’t rustle with the sounds of chipmunks. He hit the edge where the trail met trees. He was so close to the deer if he reached his arm out his hand would probably touch. And the deer didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. It was brave.

Or stupid.

Stiles reached his hand up. His fingertips just brushed across the deer’s fur. The eyes of the deer were black, staring at Stiles without blinking, and it felt like he was looking at himself.

A loud bark startled them both. He jolted out of his daze and the deer was long gone. The forest rustling with its hasty exit.

Odie went after it but Stiles grabbed his collar just in time.

“You’re such a bad dog sometimes,” Stiles grumbled.

The dog calmed down and Stiles let him go. “Let’s go back boy,” he said. Taking off for the cabin, every once in a while, he looked through the trees trying to catch a glimpse of the deer.

Derek was on the porch with a book when he got back. “That was really short.”

“I saw a deer.” Stiles ran his hand through his sweaty hair. His pants stuck to his legs uncomfortably. “It was so close I could touch it.”

Derek’s brows furrowed. “It got that close to you?”

“Yeah.” Stiles walked up the steps. “Well until Odie scared it off.”

“He has a way of doing that.”

Stiles walked into the cabin and grabbed a glass of water before picking up his wallet.

Derek looked at him curiously as he came back out, holding a few bills out towards Derek in the chair.

Derek frowned. “What’s that?”

“Money... cash... dough... typically what people use to buy stuff?” Stiles said.

“Yeah. Thanks. Why are you trying to give it to me?”

“For letting me stay here the past couple weeks, the food, beer, electricity, water... etcetera.” Stiles hated being indebted to people.

“I don’t want your money.”

“Dude, you’ve saved me a shit ton of money by letting me stay here, just take the cash.”

Derek pushed his hand away. “No.”

Stiles sat down on the other chair. “Please just take the money Derek, I hate taking handouts.”

“It’s not a handout, it’s cost me basically nothing to have you here.” Derek’s fingers wrapped around Stiles’ hand holding the money. “Seriously, Stiles, you don’t owe me anything. Don’t feel like you do.”

Stiles’ lips parted in a soft gasp, his eyes flicking down to where Derek’s skin touched his. He couldn’t just be imagining it, could he? Surely Derek felt _something_.

When he looked back up at Derek’s face, the man’s intense green eyes were focused on him.

Stiles sprung up. “I should shower,” he said, the sentence strung together instead of individual words. He took a step back and didn’t miss the disappointed look that crossed Derek’s face.

It was terrifying to think what might happen if Derek kissed him. What Stiles might let him do.

* * *

The misty morning was cool for July. Derek wore a plaid shirt over his t-shirt as he cleaned up the horses’ field and rinsed out the trough.

Stiles walked over with a carrot and a determined look on his face. “Today is the day that Rhythm likes me the way she likes you.”

Derek laughed. “Good luck with that.”

Dakota was the first over to Stiles, nickering, already used to him and an expectation of a treat. Stiles fed her a carrot and patted her neck, at ease with the horse in a way he hadn’t been at the beginning.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered into her cheek. He turned around and faced Rhythm. “Do _you_ want a treat Rhythm?” Stiles waved the carrot around. “You only get it if you don’t hoof me to death.”

Derek rolled his eyes but watched curiously.

Rhythm nickered, a friendly noise, as Stiles got closer.

“That’s it,” Stiles said. He held out the carrot in front of him. “You’re alright.”

Rhythm took the carrot.

“Don’t touch her when she’s eating,” Derek said. He stood up from the trough and pushed the hair that’d fallen onto his forehead away. “She’ll definitely bite you.”

“Got it.” Stiles waited until Rhythm was done chewing. “Will you let me pet you?”

Rhythm huffed a breath almost like a response.

Stiles looked back at Derek.

“You can try.” Derek moved closer just in case he had to step in.

There wasn’t any anxiety coming off of Stiles as he lifted his hand and ran his fingers over Rhythm’s nose. She made a noise of appreciation and pushed her nose against his hand.

Stiles laughed. “You like me?” He stepped closer and placed his hand flat against her cheek. “You’re not scary... you just take some time eh?”

Derek smiled. “She doesn’t let anyone but me get close to her like that.”

“Well, she’s got good taste remember?” Stiles kissed her on the nose and she let out a huff.

“Apparently.” Derek moved closer to the pair of them and ran his hand down Rhythm’s velvet fur on her neck. “There’s a hiking trail down the road from here, did you want to do that today?” he asked, watching Stiles' long fingers drag across the dark fur. “Should only take us a couple hours.”

“Physical activity?” Stiles pursed his lips. “Better have a good view.”

“The best,” Derek said, looking at the man standing next to him.

They hiked for a couple hours, Odie running around excited from the new scents.

“You do this for fun?” Stiles panted behind him.

Derek chuckled and stepped up onto the next slab of rock. He reached down for Stiles and helped pull him up.

“It’s worth it when you get to the top.”

“You’re not even breathing heavy.” Stiles gestured towards him.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Ha,” Stiles wheezed.

Finally, they got to the top and Stiles flopped down, leaning against a rock. “I guess you’re right,” he said, looking out. “It’s nice.”

The view was of the mountains and forest near Derek’s property. He used to hike trails every day just to keep his mind distracted, before he got any of the animals other than Dakota and had a new way to put in time.

Odie laid down next to Stiles and Derek pulled out the snacks he packed.

“Got a beer?” Stiles asked, pulling out his cigarettes.

“Water.” Derek handed him the bottle.

Stiles lit the cigarette and leaned back against the rock, taking the water from Derek.

Stiles chugged half the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a little cold up here.” He brushed his fingers across the goosebumps on his arm.

Derek pulled out the sweater he’d brought and tossed it at Stiles. He took out a small bowl and poured some of his water, placing it next to a grateful Odie.

“Thanks,” Stiles said. He put down the cigarette on the cliff in front of him and pulled the sweater over his head. The arms were a bit baggy but Stiles’ shoulders were broad enough that it didn’t look like it was too big.

Derek turned back to the food he’d brought, needing a distraction from Stiles wearing his sweater. He grabbed a granola bar and tore open the wrapper.

A sniff made him look back at Stiles. The man had buried his face in Derek’s sleeve, his eyes closed. He must’ve realized what he was doing because his eyes flew open and he looked at Derek.

Derek raised an eyebrow.

“What? It smells good,” Stiles said as he dropped his arm. “Pass me some food.”

Derek handed him a granola bar.

“Do you ever want more?” Stiles asked. He opened the granola bar and took a bite, looking out at the landscape.

“What do you mean?”

He swallowed before answering. “I mean, and don’t take this the wrong way cause I don’t mean it badly at all, but your life is pretty simple... do you want more?”

“No.” He didn’t have to think about the answer. “I’ve had enough excitement for one lifetime, I’ll gladly take this for the rest of my life.” His took a sip of his water, watching Stiles from the corner of his eye.

Stiles’ lip pulled down and for a second Derek thought he might start crying. “I get that... I guess I kind of want that.”

He could have it. Derek would give that to him, he was starting to realize there wasn’t much he wouldn’t give Stiles and that scared him.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Not all of us have responsibilities we can just run from. They catch up with you eventually. Mine are coming hard and fast... this has all just been an escape, a good one, but I don’t think I can keep it up.”

“Stiles, what are you talking about?” Derek frowned.

He was a college graduate. Taking the summer off. Other than losing his parents and not being financially stable, Stiles appeared to be okay, maybe a little higher anxiety than the average person. But full of life nonetheless.

“I don’t know.” Stiles laughed. He took a deep drag of the cigarette. “It’s too complicated for me to even make sense of it.”

“Are you going to leave when your car is done?” Derek asked, a lump forming in his throat.

Stiles looked at him with wonder in his eyes like he was trying to figure Derek out. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to either,” Derek admitted, not meeting Stiles’ gaze. “This has been nice.”

“Yeah.” Stiles tapped the carton of cigarettes on his knee. “You ever been to Yellowstone?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“A few times.”

“Is it cool?”

“Yeah, maybe we can go.”

“Maybe,” Stiles said. But his voice told Derek he didn’t plan on being around long enough to do that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter: very vague/brief mention of suicidal thoughts in a flashback.

Jimmy’s truck pulled up beside Derek's just as he finished with the horses. He brushed back his greasy hair and walked over to the old man.

“Hey Jimmy,” Derek said, leaning his hand on the door. “How’s it going?”

“Our basement flooded,” Jimmy said, his voice gruff, the smell of nicotine hitting Derek’s nose. “We were wondering if you could lend a hand.”

“Yeah for sure.”

Jimmy’s eyes shifted to over Derek’s shoulder as Stiles’ heartbeat got closer. “Hey Stiles.”

“Jimmy.” Stiles nodded. “What’s going on?”

“Basement flooded, we need Derek’s help.” Jimmy took out his pack of cigarettes. “Well shit I forgot my lighter.”

Stiles held out his light. “Sucks he doesn’t have a phone eh?” Stiles flicked his gaze towards Derek.

“Man after my own heart.” Jimmy took the lighter and lit the cigarette before passing it back. The smoke puffing into the cab of the truck, drifting over to Derek.

Derek pushed off the door. “I can meet you there, I’ll leave in a few.”

“Great thanks,” Jimmy rasped.

Stiles followed him back to the cabin. “Got an old shirt I can wear? Everything I own is in my duffel bag and I’d rather keep them nicer.”

Derek arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“What else am I supposed to spend my Sunday doing?” Stiles knocked his shoulder off Derek’s as they walked up the front steps.

Odie laid on the floor in the middle of the cabin, watching them without moving his head.

Derek dug through his drawer and grabbed out one of his plain white shirts he wore around the barn. He tossed it to Stiles who caught it and disappeared into the bathroom.

His aversion to changing in front of Derek was a little strange. It’d been over two weeks, Derek slept in his underwear every night but the most Stiles got down to was a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. But Erica had told Derek repeatedly over the years that he was weird for his lack of self-consciousness when it came to nakedness. Told him it must’ve been a born-wolf thing.

He grabbed a glass of water and chugged it before grabbing out the last muffin.

Stiles came out of the bathroom and smiled at him. “Ready?”

Derek nodded.

They got in the truck with Odie standing on Stiles’ legs, shoving his head out of the window. Derek didn’t trust the dog to stay in the bed of the truck.

Ruby and Jimmy lived in an old subdivision just outside of the town. Had to drive past it to get to Derek’s. A modest three-bedroom house with a literal white picket fence and colorful flower beds.

They met Ruby and Jimmy around the side of the house and he let Odie into the backyard.

“Boys!” Ruby sighed with relief. “Thank you for coming.” She wrapped her soft arms around Derek’s waist and not for the first time he felt a maternal love roll off her.

“No problem,” Stiles said. He finished his smoke and tucked the butt into his pack.

Ruby hugged Stiles next and his eyes widened for a second before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his chin able to rest on the top of her head.

They spent the day moving the furniture and boxes out of the basement while Ruby went through and tried to find the things that were salvageable.

“Stiles, you gotta lift,” Derek grunted. He took most of the weight of the wood cabinet and it was even pushing his werewolf strength to its max.

“You don’t think I know that?” Stiles said, his voice frustrated. “You’re the one with biceps the size of my freakin' head! You lift!”

“I’m just trying to keep this from going over the railing.”

Stiles swore under his breath.

“I heard that,” Derek said.

“Oh really, what’d I say?” Stiles huffed with exertion.

“You told me to fuck off.”

Stiles laughed. “I hate how good your hearing is.”

Stiles didn’t know the extent of Derek’s abilities. Derek didn’t even know how he’d tell someone something like that. He never had to do it. Erica found out about Boyd accidentally. An angry alpha, the reason they left Chicago. But Derek never stayed with the same person long enough that it became something he could trust them with.

Finally, Jimmy joined Stiles and they were able to get the cabinet out. Ruby wiped it down.

“Do you think you could save it?” she asked, looking up at Derek with hopeful eyes.

He crouched down to look at the warped and stained wood. “I could try sanding it down and staining it... but matching the colors would be difficult, I’d have to redo the whole thing.”

“That’s fine.” Ruby patted him on the shoulder. “If you’re willing to do the work, I can choose a new color.”

Derek stood up and looked at Stiles. “Think you can make it over to the truck?”

Stiles groaned, his head falling back. “I hate you.”

They loaded the cabinet into the back of Derek’s truck and he shut the back gate. “Well, I think that’s all we can help with,” Derek said. “Unfortunately, I think you’ll have to call someone in for the repair.”

“This was great help,” Ruby said. “You two will stay for dinner, won’t you?”

Derek looked at Stiles and he shrugged.

“Sure.” Derek looked down at his clothes. He hadn’t even showered from being out at the barn and now he was covered in water and dust and dirt.

Ruby patted his chest. “You’re fine dear,” she said, reading his mind. “We’ll eat on the back porch.”

Derek sat with Jimmy out on the porch. According to Ruby, they were on _barbecuing duty_. Stiles was inside with Ruby, their quiet conversation drifting out the kitchen window.

“How long is he in town for?” Jimmy asked, getting up and opening the lid of the barbecue.

Derek looked at the bottle of beer in his hands. “Until his car is done I guess.”

“Ever tell you the story of when I met Ruby?” Jimmy said. He flipped the chicken on the grill and closed the lid, sitting back down.

“She mentioned it was when she came to visit her grandparents,” Derek said.

“Summer of sixty-eight, I was working as a farmhand, made decent money but certainly was no rich man,” Jimmy said. He stared off as if he was watching the memory play out like a movie scene. “Met her one night when I went out with a few buddies and she was gorgeous. I mean she still is, but she was so full of life and optimistic and young. We both were, hell we were eighteen, but I was a goner. Asked her out, three dates later and I knew she was the one I wanted to spend my life with... but she was just here for the summer.” Jimmy gave Derek a serious look. “And I had a choice... I could take the chance, tell her how I felt, or I could let her go and possibly never see her again.”

Derek looked away, watching Odie rub his back on the grass.

“I know what we got ain’t much but it’s been a damn good life,” Jimmy said.

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“You could be too y’know, if you gave your Ruby a chance.”

Derek laughed. “Did she put you up to this?” He looked to the house, Stiles’ head was thrown back with laughter as Ruby hit him on the shoulder.

Jimmy’s chest wheezed with his laughter. “She did.” He squeezed Derek’s shoulder. “I stopped fighting her a long time ago, she’s usually right, son.”

“It’s not that simple,” Derek said. “We’re not eighteen-year-old kids.”

Ruby appeared at the sliding door. “Are you guys making sure the meat isn't burning or are you just shooting the shit?”

Jimmy grumbled and stood up. “You got about five minutes until they’re ready woman.”

“Don’t call me that.” Ruby moved away from the door, complaining to Stiles about _men_.

They sat down around the table, the food sitting on the table. Ruby always went all out when Derek was over for dinner. Three different salads, buns, barbecued chicken and vegetables, mashed potatoes. He was sure there was a dessert sitting in on the counter. 

“This looks great, thanks guys,” Stiles said.

Johnny Cash crooned from the radio as they dished out the food. It felt like all the other dinners Derek had with Ruby and Jimmy over the years. Stiles was a natural addition to the group.

“I saw the photos in the living room,” Stiles said. “Those your kids?”

Ruby nodded. “Anna-Grace, Robbie, and Jake.”

“Do they live in town?” Stiles asked, taking a bite of his food.

“No, Anna-Grace followed her husband to Jackson Hole... Jake moves around often for work, right now he’s in Boston,” Ruby said. “Robbie’s been in LA for a couple years now, met a girl, fell in love.”

“Wow, they’re quite spread out,” Stiles said. He took a sip of his beer.

“What about your family Stiles?” Ruby asked. “Where are they?”

Stiles’ heart sped up, his mouth pulling down.

Derek wished he could steer the conversation away from the topic of Stiles’ family without drawing attention.

“My parents are - uh – dead,” Stiles said. His eyes jumped around, landing on the middle of the table. “And I’m an only child.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” Ruby said, she put her hand on top of his.

“It’s alright... it was a while ago,” Stiles said. He put on a smile and looked up at Ruby and Jimmy across the table. “Good people, like you two... think you guys would get along.”

“Well they obviously did a good job with you,” Ruby said.

As if a switch had been flicked, overwhelming guilt hit Derek. Stiles’ shoulders hunched over as if Ruby’s words were physically pressing down on him.

“I don’t know about that,” Stiles said.

“The past doesn’t matter. It’s what you do in the present,” Ruby said.

Stiles nodded, glancing over at Derek. “Yeah.”

Derek put his hand on Stiles’ back, it was supposed to be reassuring. He figured it helped a bit when Stiles flashed him a grateful smile and his anxiety seemed to pass.

* * *

It was late evening by the time they got the cabinet moved into Derek’s workshop. It’d been a long day of lugging heavy items and Stiles was ready for a cigarette, a couple of beers, and sleep.

Freshly showered, Derek came out of the bathroom with just his underwear on and Stiles opened the fridge to distract himself.

“I got a call from Fred... he left a message.”

Derek didn’t say anything.

Stiles grabbed out a beer and cracked it open. “Says the car will be ready for me to pick up on Wednesday.”

Derek had pulled on jeans and was searching through his drawer, not reacting to Stiles' words. His black tattoo on display, it flowed with Derek’s movements.

Stiles moved closer and traced the pattern on Derek’s back. The muscles tensed under his finger.

“What does it mean?” Stiles asked.

He knew it was the Hale pack symbol. Marked their territory, their pack members. But he didn’t know what it represented or why it was so important.

“It’s a triskelion,” Derek said.

Stiles dropped his hand. “I know that.”

Derek pulled on a t-shirt. “Means a lot of different things to different people.”

Stiles lifted the bottle to his lips. “Well then what does it mean to you?” he asked before taking a sip.

“To me, it means family...” Derek spun around and took the bottle from him.

“Your family?”

Stiles could start to see a crack in Derek’s heavily guarded walls he kept himself hidden behind. Maybe he could finally wedge himself in. Get something. So far Derek had gotten more information out of him than he’d gotten out of Derek. He’d always been talkative and that made people trust him. Worked to his advantage at times. With Derek though, he offered up the information willingly, like he wasn’t even in control of his own mouth.

Derek stared at the bottle in his hands. “Yeah. My family.” He took a sip of the beer.

“What – uh – happened to them?” Stiles flicked his gaze up through his eyelashes.

Derek’s shoulders tensed. “How do you know anything happened?”

Stiles grabbed the bottle back and the excuse flowed easily. “You don’t have any pictures of them around, you don’t talk about them. You’re not from here...” Stiles shrugged. “Guess it’s something I recognize after losing my parents.”

Derek licked his lips and moved out to the porch.

Stiles followed him, leaning against the railing.

“Most of them died in a fire when I was sixteen,” Derek said, his voice low and quiet. “My uncle survived but he was in a coma, he died about four years ago.”

Knowing Derek could sense his emotions, Stiles tried to push down the guilt. He distracted himself by pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

As Derek talked he looked anywhere but Stiles. “My older sister and I were the only other survivors. We moved to Arizona... lived there for six years before she went back to our hometown, said there was something she had to do... she was only there for two days before she was killed. I spent a year kind of drifting, before I found this town and moved here.”

Stiles pretended he didn’t know any of the information. “I’m sorry, that’s horrible.”

“The worst part is that I never went back, didn’t even find the person responsible for her death.”

“Is that what you want? Revenge?” Stiles asked. He picked at the label on the bottle. He could give Derek the chance for revenge. It could make things with this situation easier.

Derek shook his head. “No, I’m just trying to pick up the pieces of what they did.”

“They?”

The familiar guarded look was back. “It’s... I didn’t mean... forget it,” Derek said.

“My dad was murdered too,” Stiles said and finished off the beer. “I wouldn’t blame you for wanting revenge if you did.”

“That won’t bring them back. I was angry for a long time but then I just got tired and let it go. I was finally able to be kind of happy.”

And here Stiles was, dragging it all back into his life.

“You think I can do that? Let it go?”

Ruby’s words from earlier coming back to him. _The past doesn’t matter. It’s what you do in the present._ She didn’t know what he’d done though. What he’d done mattered.

“Did they catch the person who killed your dad?”

“They said they did.”

The official report said it was _Laura Hale._ Stiles lifted the cigarette to his lips. He took a drag, holding it in until his chest felt like it was going to burst.

Derek nodded. “That’s good, makes it easier to move on.” He looked at his hands. “It’s not about forgiveness... it’s about not letting it consume you.”

_He’s building a pack. Coming for revenge. We need you to find him before he has a chance to attack._

It was all lies. 

* * *

Stiles was right about the truck needing a new belt. Both of the belts needed replacements according to Fred. He picked up the new ones.

Fred sat behind the counter and rung up his purchase.

“Stiles’ car still good to go for Wednesday?” Derek asked.

“Should be.” Fred looked up at him. “Can’t believe the kid is paying for that piece of shit...” He winked. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Derek chuckled. “I don’t think he has a choice. Add his bill to mine.”

Fred raised a thick white eyebrow. “It’s close to six thousand Derek. And growing.”

Money wasn’t even on his radar as an issue. If he could do some good by helping out someone in need then it didn’t make sense to hoard it. Though the people in this town didn't know what kind of money he had.

“All good, I’ll pay whatever’s on it now, he can pay the rest.”

“Alright.” Fred rubbed his mouth and looked over his glasses perched at the end of his nose. “He someone special?”

Derek’s face warmed. “I can't be nice?”

Fred shrugged. “Thousands of dollars says someone special.” He typed in the additions to Derek’s bill. He tilted the machine towards Derek with the new total on it. “Lots of rumors flying around about you two,” he said.

“I’m sure there is.” Derek swiped his card. “Doesn’t make any of it true.”

“You gotta keep your eye out,” Fred said. “There’s quite a few people in this town who don’t approve of that sort of thing.”

“I’m aware.”

“Listen son -" Fred's voice switched from conversational to serious - "I know you can take care of yourself but this kid won’t be expecting it.”

“I know.” Derek put his card away.

Fred rubbed his jaw. 

“He’ll probably leave now that his car is done anyways, no reason to worry,” Derek said. Trying not to think about the fact that there was going to be a giant Stiles-shaped hole in his life that wasn’t there just a couple weeks ago.

“Alright, well I don’t want anything to happen... you know that.”

“I know and I appreciate the concern.” Derek grabbed the receipt. “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

A bead of sweat ran down his temple into his beard. Derek stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the ground, bending back over the front of the truck. For some reason, the belt wasn’t going on. It’d seemed simple when Fred explained what he was supposed to do. He could use his strength and force it but he was worried it’d end up snapping.

“Couldn’t you just pay to have those replaced?” Stiles asked. Back from his run, the familiar scent of his sweat hitting Derek’s nose and making it harder to concentrate.

“I figured it’d give me a chance to learn. Didn’t expect it to be this difficult.”

Stiles leaned over the open hood. “That’s because you’re putting it on the wrong spot. You’re trying to get the small belt to go on where the bigger one is supposed to.”

“Oh.” Derek frowned, pulling the belt away from the engine. “How do you know that?”

“My dad showed me a thing or two about cars when I was young.” Stiles pointed at the engine. “Plus, look at the distance the belt has to stretch.”

Derek picked up the bigger belt and pulled it on with less of a struggle as Stiles unscrewed the oil cap, checking it against the cloth Derek had sitting on the edge of the truck.

“When was the last time you got an oil change?”

“I don’t know... I barely put on mileage,” Derek said.

“Still gotta check your oil.” Stiles screwed the oil cap back on. “Keep the fluids up and it’ll last a lot longer. That’s probably one of the biggest issues people have with maintaining their vehicles.”

“I might have a bottle of it in the barn, could top it up.”

“You need a full-on oil change.” Stiles pushed off the bumper. “And I need water, want some?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Derek picked up the other belt and started to work it on. It was the smaller belt and more difficult to stretch on without snapping it. 

The smell of arousal was suddenly overwhelming and Derek looked up. Stiles was back from the cabin, holding two glasses of water and staring at him hunched over the truck.

Derek quickly snapped his gaze back down to the belt. Trying to smell something other than the all-consuming scents of Stiles’ sweat and arousal.

“Did – uh – Fred say anything about my car?” Stiles asked, getting closer.

The belt popped on and Derek stood up. “Yeah, still good to go for Wednesday.” He couldn’t help the bit of dejection in his voice.

“Great.” Stiles handed him the second glass of water.

Derek gulped it down, it was extra hot that day. Too hot for a ride. Even Odie still panted from where he laid in the shade of the trees.

Another wave of Stiles’ arousal washed over him as the younger man watched Derek drink the water.

Derek tightened his grip around the glass so hard he almost broke it. His resolve could only hold up for so long and with Stiles putting off everything he was, Derek thought he might just crumble right then and there.

“It’s so bloody hot out today,” Stiles said. “I barely made it through my run.”

Lowering the glass, Derek wiped the water from his lips. “I don’t know how you wear pants when you run."

“Usually in the forest it’s cooler and there’s a breeze... but today, yeah, I turned back fairly quickly.” Stiles took a sip of his water. “Too bad you don’t have a pool.”

“I have a hose,” Derek said. And then immediately regretted it. The thoughts of Stiles all dripping wet looking at him the way he was now intruded his mind.

“I think I’ll opt for a cold shower instead.”

Derek turned back to the truck. “Okay.”

Stiles’ long fingers wrapped around the empty glass in Derek’s hand. “You should check your engine coolant while you’re at it.” He winked.

Derek stared at his ass the whole time he walked back to the cabin. But he wasn't going to make a move. Not after the other day when Stiles tried to give him money and Derek had almost just kissed the man, Stiles had backed away quickly, panic in his eyes.

If Stiles wanted something, Derek would let him initiate it. It didn't stop the thoughts Derek was having. They'd turned from sexual to _romantic_. Thinking about taking Stiles on dates that weren't just the _Derek Wilson_ date. Just sleeping in the same bed together, cuddling, all things Derek never liked doing with others. Having a real relationship.

Derek refilled Dakota and Rhythm’s water trough with cold water, they were hiding out in the shaded part of the field. He made sure the other animals had enough fresh water. Rolling the hose back up to the cabin, he collected water in his hand and rubbed it over his face and neck. Wetting his hair for some relief.

The hot stare of Stiles on his back. He turned off the faucet and finished putting the hose back, joining Stiles where he laid next to Odie in the shaded area next to the cabin.

“This kind of heat makes me want to sleep,” Stiles said.

Derek laid down on the grass, it scratched his bare back at first. His arms behind his head as he stared up at the branches stretching out above him. The moment was a simple kind of perfect. A warm breeze rushing over him as they laid in the grass. The sounds of cicadas and grasshoppers. The leaves brushing together. There was the odd rustling of a small animal deep in the forest.

Stiles reached out, running his hand over Odie’s back before letting it rest there.

Derek reached out his hand lying it next to Stiles’. Slowly, Stiles’ finger twitched towards his hand, barely touching. With that, Derek moved his hand more surely so it was resting on top of Stiles’. They fell asleep, underneath the towering trees, in the hot afternoon of the Wyoming summer. Their hands resting together on top of a very content Odie.

* * *

Boyd pulled up in a truck. Apparently, Boyd and Erica provided bar services for the tailgate parties and Derek stored the equipment in his barn. The three of them loaded folded tables and chairs into the bed.

“Hey Boyd, mind giving me a ride to town?” Stiles asked, as they loaded the last table. “My car is finally ready.”

“Sure.”

As Boyd drove Stiles asked him some more questions about his life in Chicago. Which he got less of an answer to than he did when he asked Derek questions.

“If I ask you something about Derek, promise you won’t spread it around?” Stiles asked.

Boyd looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

“Right, you don’t really seem like a gossip. But you can’t tell Erica because I know she definitely is.”

Boyd smiled at that.

“Do you think Derek likes me... like in a _more than a hook up_ kind of way?”

“Is this elementary school?” Boyd asked.

“Touché, but in your experience... is this how Derek acts with all the people he’s interested in? Am I just another sexual conquest?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

Yeah, that’s what he was afraid of.

Stiles stared at the bill in his hands. “This can’t be right –” he looked up at Fred – “you told me at least five grand, this isn’t even over a thousand.”

Fred shrugged. “Overestimated.”

“No, this price breakdown doesn’t have parts on it... and the labor cost doesn’t seem right, not for two and a half weeks.” Stiles ran his eyes over the bill. “No towing costs, it’s obviously wrong.”

“Look kid, take the break.”

Stiles leaned on the counter. “What does that mean?”

“Someone already paid.”

Stiles’ voice echoed in the shop. “What? Who?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew the answer.

“Who do you think?”

“Derek.”

“Yeah, now are you gonna pay the bill or not?”

Stiles couldn’t believe it. Derek paid the bill to have Stiles’ car fixed. The car he drove there with the sole purpose of abducting Derek. Crashing his car was the only reason they weren’t already back in Beacon fucking Hills right then.

Stiles paid for the rest of the bill and drove back to Derek’s, he slammed the car door and ran into the cabin.

“What the fuck Derek?” he shouted.

Derek jolted up on the couch, where he’d been napping. “What’s going on?” he said in a stupid sleepy voice.

“This is _what’s going on_.” Stiles handed him the bill. He paced between the front door and the bathroom door.

“I don’t get it...”

“The bill. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I can pay for the whole thing if you want?” Derek frowned.

Stiles grabbed the bill. “Oh my god, you know that’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t have paid for anything.”

Derek laid back on the couch. “It’s not a big deal.”

“How much was it?”

Derek closed his eyes. "Hm."

Stiles leaned his hands on the back of the couch. “Derek. How much was it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” Stiles scoffed and yanked the pillow out from under Derek’s head.

Derek opened one eye. “I was napping.”

Stiles hit him with the pillow. “You can’t just pay for something like that!”

Derek laughed and lifted his arms above his head as Stiles beat him with the pillow.

“Why not? I’ve got the means... it makes no difference.” His voice muffled from the pillow hitting him in the face. Derek reached out, grabbing Stiles’ shirt and tugging him over the back of the couch. Stiles knew it was his abnormal strength that gave him the ability to do that.

He tumbled over the couch onto the ground, Derek almost landing right on him.

“Asshole.” Stiles’ lips twitched with a smile that he couldn’t stop.

Derek watched Stiles’ mouth. “Are you actually mad?”

“Not at you. At myself.”

They shared one breath, staring at each other. Before either of them could close the distance, Stiles pushed Derek’s chest and he sat up.

“Why?” Derek pulled himself back onto the couch.

Stiles stood up. “You wouldn’t understand.” He walked outside and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. His whole body on fire from Derek’s touch.

His cigarette was down to its filter when Derek came out on the porch.

“Come with me,” Derek said, tilting his head towards the barn.

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“You’ll see.” Derek walked down the steps and turned around.

Stiles dropped his cigarette into the tin and followed Derek out behind the barn, towards the garden.

“Some of the peaches are ready,” Derek said. He stopped beside one of the huge peach trees.

Orange-yellow fruits that weren’t there just a few weeks ago grew all over the tree.

Derek reached up, his shirt lifting and revealing the dark hair that grew at the base of his stomach. He held out a peach to Stiles.

“I can't believe it’s been a couple of weeks already,” Stiles said, taking the peach. It wasn’t too hard or soft, just the right ripeness.

Derek picked another one. “Yeah.” He looked at the peach in his hand.

Stiles wasn’t anywhere closer to knowing what to do. No matter what he did someone ended up hurt. Someone ended up dead. And now that he had his car back he didn’t have an excuse to stay. Derek didn’t seem to care, he hadn’t mention anything about Stiles having to leave. In fact, he’d told Stiles the other day that he didn’t want Stiles to leave.

“Well?” Derek held up the peach. “Are you going to try a Wyoming-grown peach?”

Stiles smiled and took a bite, the sweet juice filling his mouth. His eyes widened. “This is probably the best peach I’ve ever had.” Stiles took another bite, the sticky juice running down his chin, he wiped it off.

Derek’s face lit up with a smile and he took a bite of his own.

Stiles wanted to pull him in, press their lips together, lick the peach juice from Derek’s mouth. His cheeks burned as he looked down at his own peach. He was never like that. He didn’t think things like that.

“I’ll have to pick them tomorrow,” Derek said. He started to walk back towards the cabin. “Before the birds get to them.”

Stiles fell in step with him and looked across the fields. The quiet Wyoming landscape too perfect.

“Are you good with pasta for dinner?” Derek asked.

Stiles screwed up his face. “Isn’t it way too hot out for pasta?”

“Well, if you want to be picky why don’t you cook something for once? Since you’re apparently a gourmet chef?” The amusement clear in Derek’s face as they walked up into the cabin together.

“My cooking is too good for a cowboy who eats canned tuna sandwiches and way too much work for someone without a refined palate.”

Derek scoffed.

Their night continuing like it did for the past two and a half weeks. Derek cooking with Stiles helping out here and there. Joking around, laughing, drinking beer on the porch. Listening to music, Stiles quizzing Derek on the bands. Odie lying at their feet. The sun setting across the field with a burning orange-pink color.

*

The gun range didn’t even ask for his ID, they just waved him in and rented him the Glock 17.

His choice of gun. A nine mm with a standard magazine capacity of seventeen rounds. Usually used by law enforcement and military personnel. A newer generation of the gun his dad used to carry. Lightweight and reliable.

As soon as he stepped in front of the target, the jittering in his hands subsided. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them the world was still.

He shot all seventeen rounds into the paper. Alternating between the chest and head. Easy. Reloading and shooting until it felt like he could fucking breathe again.

It should probably scare him. That something violent like shooting a gun calmed him down. When the thoughts in his head got too loud and running didn’t help and the cigarettes didn’t cut it anymore, the bang of a gun silenced everything.

He sat in his bedroom at the Argent’s house staring at the picture of his parents on the desk. A pistol – _his_ pistol – in front of him. Eighteen years old and he already took a life. A living breathing person no longer existed because Stiles had shot him.

His hands trembled as he picked up the gun. All his feelings dragging him down beneath the surface. Wondering if the gun would be enough to silence his thoughts. What it’d feel like. If it felt like anything at all.

His door opened and the gun fell to the desk with a clatter.

Chris looked down at it and back up at Stiles. “I remember the first time I killed.” He closed the door behind him and leaned his shoulder against the wall.

“Ran the moment through my mind over and over, went through hundreds of scenarios. Ways I could’ve dealt with it differently... things I could’ve done instead of killing him. But Stiles...” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Sometimes you have to kill the rabid dog, –” he held out a cigarette for Stiles – “it’s important you don’t lose sight of that.”

“Where’d you learn to shoot?”

Stiles turned away from the rental desk, Jimmy stood there with his hands in pockets, a curious look on his face.

He had to be careful with what he said. In a small town, anything could get back to Derek.

“Family friend was a gun fanatic,” Stiles said.

“Looks like it made an impression.”

Stiles shrugged. “Helps blow off steam sometimes.”

“Ever think about putting that skill to use?”

If only he knew. No way he’d be asking that question. He’d be calling the fucking cops.

“Not really.”

“Well maybe you can join us for fall hunting, if you’re still in town.”

He’d be long gone by then. Though every day spent at Derek’s cabin made it harder to leave.

“Yeah, maybe.” Stiles pulled out his car keys. “I should get going, good to see you.”

“You too.”

Stiles felt Jimmy’s gaze following him out the door.

As he drove home he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years but remembered the feeling of one coming. Like something was watching him, waiting to strike.

He tapped off the ash of a cigarette outside his window and sucked in the smoke. It didn’t help the panicked feeling in his lungs but he couldn’t stop.

He turned away from the town, onto the road that’d take him to Derek’s. Just over the hill in the valley of the road something laid across the lanes. _Please don't be a person._

Stiles pulled over and got out, it wasn't a person at least. His feet dragging as he walked over. Cigarette still burning between his fingers. He wanted to tear the nerves from under his skin.

A deer laid dead. Its neck twisted and black eyes open staring at Stiles. The puddle of blood dark red against the pavement.

Stiles’ stomach lurched. He dropped his cigarette and ran his hand through his hair. Hunching over he threw up all over the side of the road until there was nothing left. Dry heaving. Countless memories of dead eyes flooding his mind.

_Fuck._

He ran back to the car and wrenched open the door, sitting down on the seat with his feet planted against the pavement.

_It was a panic attack._

_He wasn’t dying_.

He hunched over, his elbows digging into his legs as he tried to get his breathing under control.

_Fuck. It was a fucking panic attack._

His hands shook as he grabbed the keys from the ignition, dropping them on the floor of the car. He picked them up and held the silver key of his childhood home. Running his fingers over the familiar grooves he breathed deeply.

He was _fine_.

It was just a panic attack. His whole body shook, sweat collected in his hairline as he sat back in the seat. The deer still in the middle of the road.

When he got back to the cabin, Dakota stood alone in the field. Derek must’ve taken Rhythm out for a ride.

He brushed his teeth, washing away the bitter taste of vomit, and put the keys in his duffel bag before sitting out on the porch, physically exhausted from the almost panic attack. Wishing that Derek was around. Stiles felt better with him. Which didn’t bode well for their situation.

* * *

The moment Derek got near the cabin he knew something was wrong. Stiles sat on the porch, staring out at nothing, an agitation in his muscles. His knee bounced idly as he dropped the cigarette butt in the tin and pulled out another one right away.

He’d been off since getting the bill and Derek wondered if he crossed a line. Maybe he should’ve left things alone. Maybe Stiles felt like he owed Derek something now.

He went into the cabin and washed his hands before grabbing out two beers from the fridge.

Sitting next to Stiles, he wordlessly offered him the second beer. Stiles gave him a tight smile and took it.

Derek sipped the beer and leaned back in the chair. “I didn’t pay the bill with an expectation for something in return.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“I appreciate it, really I do.” Stiles went quiet again. Abnormal for him.

Derek had gotten used to the constant stream of chatter and it made him uneasy when Stiles got this kind of quiet. Sometimes Derek caught him with a look in his eye that made it seem like he was a million miles away.

Figuring Stiles would talk if he wanted to, Derek didn’t say anything. Until his third cigarette. He’d started noticing a pattern. When Stiles smelled of sickly anxiety or nauseating guilt or violent anger, he smoked more. Chain smoking if Derek let him.

The past few days he’d been chain smoking a lot.

Derek put his beer down. “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning towards Stiles.

Stiles frowned. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Derek took the cigarette from his fingers. “This is the third one since I’ve gotten back. How many did you smoke before that?”

Stiles bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

“So, what’s wrong?” Derek stubbed out the cigarette against Stiles’ protests and threw it in the tin.

Stiles rubbed his hand over his head aggressively, exhaling a loud hitched breath. “Fuck, Derek.” Stiles sprung up and leaned back against the railing. “I’m not who you think I am, I’m not a good person.”

“Stiles –”

“No. Don’t. I can’t have you sit there and look at me like that and say nice things.” Stiles wiped his tears away with his thumb. “If I was a good person I’d leave tonight.”

He didn’t know what Stiles meant by that, all he knew was that he didn’t want Stiles to leave.

Derek stood up. “Please don’t.” Derek’s eyes darted over Stiles’ face. Landing on his lips.

If Derek wasn’t terrified – of Stiles leaving him, of hurting Stiles, of his past – he would’ve kissed him. But the fear won over and he pulled Stiles in for a hug instead.

Stiles sunk into his arms and wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist. His hands settled on the bare skin underneath Derek’s shirt. Their breaths rising and falling together as the anxiety faded from Stiles’ body. They stood together for a long time. Stiles’ face buried in Derek’s neck.

Eventually, he lifted his head and smiled sadly at Derek. “You’re a good man.” Stiles stepped back, pulling away from Derek’s arms.

Derek let him go. “So are –”

Stiles shook his head. “No, I’m not.” He sat back down in the chair. “That ship sailed a long time ago.” He rubbed his mouth anxiously, eyes scanning the fields. “But you...” He looked up Derek now. “You stayed good.”

Derek’s brows pulled together. “What’s going on?”

“I had a panic attack, well, almost,” Stiles said. “I started getting them after my mom died but it’s been years... just fucked me up.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Derek asked, leaning back against the railing.

Stiles laughed.

Derek didn’t know why that was the response the man had. “What?”

“You haven’t stopped helping me since I got here.” Stiles shook his head. “I’m fine now.” The first lie he’d told since getting to Derek’s. The blip in his heart-rate unmistakable.

“Alright.” Derek let it slide. “What did you want to do this afternoon?”

Across from him at the picnic table Stiles set up the chessboard. The only game Derek had, it’d been left behind by the past owner, Stiles had found it on the shelf. Wanted to play. There was a faint tremble in his fingers. But other than that, there was no indication of earlier, seemingly brushing it off and snapping back to the cheerful man Derek was used to.

He concentrated on the chessboard in front of him. His lips moving silently as he placed the pieces on the squares.

“What are you looking at?” Stiles asked, his eyes meeting Derek’s as his cheeks went red.

Derek smiled. “You,” he said quietly.

“Well stop it.” Stiles looked down at the board, biting his smile.

“Why?”

“Because it’s unsettling.” Stiles placed the last piece on the board. “Alright, ready to get your ass kicked?”

“I’ve never played chess, so yes.”

Stiles picked up his beer. “I’ll go easy on you.” He winked before taking a sip.

The day ended better than it started. Stiles beat him in chess, his smile almost worth his endless gloating. Derek cooked dinner and Stiles helped him with the evening routine around the barn before they picked the peaches together. Stiles looked better. Less pale than earlier, the agitation in his muscles subsiding.

Derek turned over in the bed unable to sleep. Based on the speed of Stiles’ heart, he wasn’t asleep either.

Sure enough, seconds later Stiles sat up on the couch. “Derek?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You made things better today when they were really bad and I just want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“It’s no problem, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” Maybe one of these days Derek would work up the courage to tell him to stay for good.

“Thanks.” Stiles got up off the couch. “I’m just going to have a smoke.”

Derek drifted back to sleep before he heard Stiles come back in the cabin. Dreaming of Stiles and peach flavored kisses.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter: minor homophobia/use of a slur.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Erica said. She packed bottles of liquor into a box.

The bar was closed, Derek had run into town to do laundry and pick up some groceries, stopping by to see if they needed any help getting ready for the party that night.

He put down a basket of eggs and a basket of peaches on the bar.

“Oh fuck yes!” Erica said, picking up a peach. “I love this time of year.”

He sat on a stool. “It’s only been a week since you’ve seen me.”

Erica put the peach back in the basket. “That’s a while for you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Erica placed her elbows on the bar and clasped her hands together, leaning her chin on her hands, widening her eyes and pouting. Making a whole show out of it. “Busy with _Stiles_?”

Derek looked away.

Erica pushed herself up from the bar. “Derek... do you actually have feelings for this man?” She arched an eyebrow. “That’s unlike you.”

Boyd came from the kitchen. “Stop bothering him.”

“Look at him -” she gestured towards Derek with her hand - “he’s smitten.”

Boyd stood next to Erica, his eyes passing over Derek in a way that made him feel like he was on a microscope slide.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Derek admitted as the flush spread over his cheeks.

Erica dropped her hands to his on the bar. “Well, have you guys had sex yet?”

“No.”

“Kissed?”

“No.”

Erica raised both eyebrows now. “Who is this man in front of me?”

Derek scowled at her.

“Why haven’t you?” she asked.

“I don’t want him to reciprocate just because he feels like he owes me something.”

“Derek, I think we all know that if Stiles reciprocated it wouldn’t be because he thinks you’re owed something.” Erica stared at him, unflinching, tearing down his carefully placed excuse. “Now, what’s the real reason?”

“I’m terrified I’m going to mess this up.”

Erica frowned. “You must really like him... is he coming tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m picking him up later from my place.”

Erica’s whole face lit up with a grin.

“It’s not a date,” Derek said.

“It’s as romantic as this town gets... how long is he staying?” Erica asked.

“I don’t know.”

Now that his car was fixed it could be any day. Derek was a little surprised he wasn’t already gone.

“Make a move before he leaves, once he gets a piece of you he won’t want to go.” Erica put her hand on his, squeezing in reassurance. “Derek, you’re not going to mess it up.”

Derek sighed, looking at Boyd for help.

Boyd pressed his lips together.

“Don’t tell me you agree with her,” Derek said.

“Sorry.” Boyd shrugged his shoulders. “What do you have to lose?”

Losing Stiles felt like a lot to lose. Getting his heart broken for a third time also felt like a lot to lose. Erica and Boyd didn’t know about his past experience with relationships, so it was easy for them to encourage this. Less easy for Derek to be the one to let it all go.

When it'd first started, these parties were a true tailgate party. People from the area pulling up their trucks into a field, music being played from a small radio, a couple kegs of beer brought by someone. Cheap drinks, no food.

Over the years though it'd gotten bigger, become an annual party with food trucks and a large white tent pitched in the middle of the field, the sides left open for fresh air. On one end of the tent was a band that consisted of five old men who only played country up on a questionably built stage. Near the stage was the dance floor which was just the bare grass. On the opposite side of the tent, Boyd tended bar, if Derek wasn’t a party guy, Boyd _definitely_ wasn’t.

There were people sitting at the tables, eating and drinking. Red solo cups scattered all around. It felt like the whole town was there and everyone was sloppy drunk. The kids ran around uncontrolled by their parents.

Derek watched as Stiles danced through the crowd. He spun Ruby around and let Sally’s granddaughter stand on his feet for a slow song. Erica pulled Stiles in for a dance, they shook their hips and laughed with each other.

Stiles caught his eye across the crowd and his smile softened, waving Derek over.

Derek shook his head and turned back to the bar.

“Wow, Erica's right, you are so fucked.” Boyd took his cup and refilled it.

Derek rubbed his face. “I’m ten years older than him.”

“So?”

“He doesn’t know about me.” Another excuse.

Boyd placed the beer in front of him. “Erica didn’t either at first, now she’s one of us.”

“I’m not biting him.”

“Not what I meant.” Boyd wiped the temporary bar, watching the crowd dance.

“He’s talking about leaving.”

A man stumbled up to the bar and ordered two beers.

Boyd poured the drinks and took the cash before turning back to Derek. “How long have we known each other?”

“Seven years.”

“And in those seven years you know how many times I’ve seen you happy like this?”

Derek didn’t answer. He knew the answer.

“Once... the second you showed up with Stiles in tow.” Boyd leaned his hands on the bar. “So, man up, get over yourself, and kiss him.”

Boyd had become a good friend over the years. He was like Derek, quiet, serious, a hard past. They got along well and Boyd usually minded his own business. Choosing not to get involved in Derek's love life the way Erica did. Which Derek appreciated. This was a different side of Boyd. 

As if Stiles could sense they were talking about him, he appeared beside Derek.

“Hey Boyd, can I get a beer?” Stiles nudged his shoulder against Derek’s. “What do I gotta do to get you out on the dance floor?”

Boyd opened his mouth.

“I don’t dance.” Derek cut off Boyd before he could say anything embarrassing.

Stiles pouted and took the beer from Boyd, putting a five-dollar bill on the bar.

“It’s not like there’s fierce competition... other than me, of course.” Stiles winked. He turned around and leaned back against the bar.

They watched the townspeople drunkenly dance. Most dressed in some form of plaid or hunting patterns. A lot of worn out baseball caps, cowboy hats, and frizzy-bleached hair. But most of those people were actually good people with kind hearts, just a little rough around the edges.

Erica was teaching Sally’s granddaughter cheesy dance moves like the vacuum cleaner, the sprinkler.

“I don’t know... Erica’s got some moves,” Derek said.

“Watch out Boyd, Derek’s coming for your wife.”

“I’m not worried,” Boyd said, staring at Derek.

They finished their beers and Stiles wiped his thumb across his bottom lip, catching a stray drop.

Stiles pointed at Derek as he walked backwards. “I’m gonna go have a smoke. And then we’re going to dance.” He turned around and left the tent. Disappearing behind a food truck towards the designated smoking area that only Stiles seemed to follow.

“So fucked,” Boyd taunted.

Stiles came back minutes later. “Alright, let’s go.”

Boyd had disappeared, gone to find more ice. Erica was on the dance floor with a couple of older bar regulars. He had no one to turn to. There was no escape.

“This town isn’t exactly progressive Stiles.” As if that’d bothered Derek before.

Stiles smirked, moving towards Derek, he leaned in close. The smell of nicotine and beer and Stiles’ shampoo filling his senses. “Well then, I won’t kiss you.” Stiles grabbed his hand giving him a tug.

Thrown off by his comment, Derek stumbled forward following Stiles over to the dance floor.

Erica turned around as they got near. “Yes! Finally!”

Her and Stiles danced around Derek, moving his arms offbeat of the song. The band started playing Creedence Clearwater Revival, the first song Derek actually knew, and Stiles grinned. Twisting his feet and hips, lowering himself down and back up.

In that moment, he looked so young and carefree. Underneath it all, Derek knew there was pain. An insecurity that ran deep. Something had been bothering him and Derek was at a lost for what it could’ve been.

He sung along and pulled Derek into his arms, rocking them side to side, his soft hand in Derek’s and his arm around Derek's waist.

Larry gave them a look from where he danced with a woman and Derek instinctively pulled Stiles closer. He glared, letting the animalistic alpha take over, but keeping it in check enough his eyes didn’t turn red. The color in Larry’s face drained and he walked off the dance floor, leaving the woman behind.

“Woah, what’s that look for?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

Derek shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Just a guy looking at us.”

Stiles placed his hand on Derek’s cheek. “Hey, fuck 'em.”

Derek smiled. Of course, Stiles just let it roll off him.

“Yeah,” Derek said. He didn’t care about the judgmental looks shot towards him. After living in the town for almost a decade, he'd gotten used to some of the townspeople looking at him that way or saying the odd comment. But he hated people looking at Stiles like he was something bad. Stiles wasn’t bad. He was everything good in the world.

The song finished and Stiles let him go, clapping for the band.

“We got a special treat for y’all,” the singer said. The microphone crackled and there was a slight feedback that made him and Erica flinch. “Joining us on the stage for the very first time, please give a big round of applause for Coby Rae Johnson!”

A young strawberry-blonde girl, probably around sixteen, walked on stage flashing them a nervous smile. Hanging off her shoulder was an acoustic guitar.

The crowd shouted and whistled around him.

“This one is for all the couples out there,” the lead singer of the band said into a backup mic as they got the girl set up. “Gentlemen grab the lady you love and hold ‘em close.”

Stiles looked at Derek. “I’m – uh, gonna go have a smoke.”

The starting notes of the acoustic guitar lifted up into the tent. Boyd was already with Erica. Ruby and Jimmy were next to them with their arms wrapped around each other. Older couples, middle-age couples, young loves all flooded the dance floor.

Derek grabbed Stiles’ arm. “Or you could dance with me.”

Stiles’ face lit up and he didn’t waste any time draping his arms around Derek’s neck. Wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist, they swayed together. The looks of others barely registering as everything but Stiles faded away.

The bruise on his cheekbone a pale yellow-green, barely there anymore. The cut on his lip was gone. He wore a tight black t-shirt that Derek hadn’t seen on him before and it made him look older. A blush appeared on Stiles’ cheeks as they stared at each other, feeling more intimate than any sex Derek had before.

“Thought you didn’t like country music,” Stiles said, his voice a murmur among the music and crowd.

“It’s growing on me.”

Stiles sunk his fingers into the back of Derek’s hair. Chills spread down Derek’s spine.

The young girl’s voice sweetly sang the lyrics. " _I will always be in love with who you are. Right here, right now, with me tonight. And I will always see you like this, reckless, fearless."_

“This town is growing on me,” Stiles said. “That may have more to do with you than anything else though.” Stiles’ lips were red and welcoming.

But he didn’t want to kiss Stiles here. Surrounded by all those people.

He pulled Stiles closer. Until they were more or less hugging in the middle of the dance floor instead of dancing. Stiles didn’t seem to mind, he leaned his head on Derek’s shoulder, his hot breath hitting Derek’s neck with every exhale.

The song was over too soon and people were pulling away while cheering. Another song started and Stiles put some distance between them.

Stiles hesitated. “Thanks for the dance,” he said.

“Do I get the next one?” Ruby’s voice came from beside them. “He’s been here ten years and I’ve never once seen him on a dance floor.”

Stiles smiled. “He’s all yours Ruby.” He pushed through the crowd, heading towards smoking area.

Derek’s eyes following him until he was gone from Derek’s view. He turned towards Ruby and put on a charming smile.

They danced slowly to the fast song being played.

“Nice seeing you with that smile on your face dear.” Ruby patted his cheek. “He’s a sweet boy.”

* * *

There weren’t any more excuses left for him to tell. He loved Derek Hale. The one person he should’ve never fallen for. He knew Derek was falling for him too. Could see all the hesitations, moments when it seemed like he was going to lean in and kiss him. Stiles hated the fact that he wouldn’t pull away. Not really though. He didn’t hate anything to do with Derek.

He hated the Argents. The lies they spread. The years of brainwashing and turning him into a murderer.

His fingers shook uncontrollably and he flicked the burnt-out cigarette away, grabbing out another. A bad habit picked up when Chris offered him one after he killed for the first time.

Allison and Scott could tell his mood just based on how many cigarettes he smoked in a day. A good day, it was only a couple to curb the withdrawal and nicotine itch. Bad days could lead to him smoking a whole pack or two if he didn’t distract himself.

The air was chillier that night and he looked up at the sky. Wondering how disappointed his parents would be if they saw him now.

He was tempted to throw away his phone and old life, never return to Beacon Hills. Quit the hunting life. Live out the rest of his years with Derek in the tiny cabin. Derek made it seem so easy.

But he wasn’t a good man like Derek. He couldn’t let the past go. He was already years past letting it consume him. His dad – and Scott – deserved better and the only way he could make things right was with Derek. Unless he could come up with another plan. One where Derek got to stay in his cabin, ignorant of everything going on. Maybe Stiles would never see him again but he’d rather Derek be happy. And alive.

“Hey.” A man stepped towards him. “Got a smoke?”

Stiles recognized him from the bar, Larry, if he remembered correctly. He offered a cigarette and lighter to the man.

They smoked in silence for a minute before Larry looked at him with a look that told Stiles there was about to be a problem.

“I don’t know what big city you’re from, but in this town, we still value family... and marriage,” Larry said plainly. Like he was talking about the weather.

Stiles rolled his eyes, releasing a puff of smoke. “Right. I’ll remember that next time you’re drinking yourself under the table on a Monday night.”

The man stepped towards him. “Listen faggot, Derek might get away with that kind of behavior but you won’t.”

“And what kind of behavior is that?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Stiles didn’t know when to quit and tonight he was already on edge. “So what if I love dicks? What are you going to do about it?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Larry flicked away the cigarette.

“Now that’s just a waste of a cigarette...” Stiles said.

Derek appeared from around a truck, he stood behind Larry, his fists clenched. “Stiles, let’s go.” His voice tight and low.

He tossed his finished cigarette on the ground and walked towards Derek. Not looking over at the man as he passed by.

“Derek, you really outdid yourself with this one,” the man called out. “Letting all kinds in your bed. You better watch out, this town isn’t meant for you.”

Stiles froze, Derek tilted his head as if to say _please don't_.

Spinning on his heel Stiles took a step towards the man. “Did you just threaten him?”

The anger he felt over his situation – Derek, Scott, the Argents, his dad – bubbled up and over. Directing it towards a target always helped, whether the person really deserved it or not.

“I’ve been here all my life. Fifty-seven years. You people don’t scare me.”

“Really? Because it seems to me like you have a little repressed gay man begging to be let out deep down underneath all that anger and booze,” Stiles spat out.

The man’s face turned beet red. He grabbed Stiles’ collar and dragged him closer.

Stiles knew Derek would react. Could hear Derek moving across the grass. He held his hand out behind him, he wanted to deal with this on his own.

“I think you’re a little too focused on what goes on in Derek’s bed," Stiles said. He tilted his head to the side. "Is that what you think about? Huh? Who he fucks?”

The man took a swing and it was slow. Stiles moved out of the way and swung back, a dull pain beat through his knuckles as it connected with Larry’s face. Nowhere near his full strength but enough he knew it’d leave a mark. Something for the man to remember in the morning when he woke up with a hangover and an ache in his face.

“Don’t you ever fucking threaten him again,” Stiles said. Anger poured through him, he wanted to hit the man again and again until the only thing he felt was the throb of his knuckles. But he didn't, he stayed still, watching Larry breathe heavily.

A couple men ran up to the scene, shouting at them. Giving Stiles dirty looks.

Derek grabbed his shoulder yanking him away.

“Have a good night boys.” Stiles winked. “I know I will.”

“Disgusting,” Larry spat, clutching his cheek.

They disappeared around the food trucks, back into the people, and Derek let his shoulder go. “Why couldn’t you have just left it alone?”

“He swung first.” Stiles stalked towards Derek's truck. “You always let people walk all over you?”

“You might get to leave this town but I live here. This is my life. Like it or not, I have to interact with those people on a daily basis.”

Stiles jerked open the passenger door. “Well maybe now they’ll treat you with an ounce of the respect that you deserve.”

Derek stood outside of the truck staring at Stiles through the window. A look of awe on his face.

Stiles raised his eyebrows.

Derek came around the other side of the truck. “I don’t need you to protect my honor,” he said as soon as the door was open.

Stiles stretched out his hand, an ache settling in, and he wished that Derek knew he knew about werewolves so he could take away the pain.

“It wasn’t just yours.” Stiles leaned his head against the window.

Derek pulled out of the parking lot and Stiles pushed away the memories of punches falling against his head, face, ribs.

* * *

The night was ruined. Not by Stiles but by the people Derek was trying to protect him from. Larry was a drunk. A mean one. Derek had spent years ignoring his comments and threats. But Stiles was young and still full of fire.

To kiss him now felt wrong. Tainted by anger and hatred.

Derek drove down the driveway and parked the truck. He sighed as he pulled out the keys. “Stiles, you’re not going to change their minds. They’re going to think what they want.”

It’s not the only time he’d learned that. Couldn’t change the hunters’ opinions of werewolves either. He almost laughed at the irony. Hunters called him a killer. An animal. When he expressed human love, people called him disgusting.

“I wasn’t trying to change his mind.” Stiles got out of the truck and slammed the door.

Derek followed him into the cabin. Stiles pushed Odie away as he jumped up on Stiles’ legs.

Without another word Stiles shut himself in the bathroom and Derek stepped back out onto the porch so Odie could get outside. He leaned on the rail and looked at the stars. It was in these moments he realized Stiles wasn’t a naïve kid. Something must’ve happened that triggered that kind of response. The anger rolling off Stiles was burning, raging hot. Infectious. It’d made Derek want to tear Larry apart himself.

Stiles came outside and pulled out another cigarette. As he smoked, some of the anger and anxiety subsided. Even Derek’s chest felt lighter with the man’s mood change.

They stood on the porch together looking out into the dark property. Stiles calmed down. His heart rate evening out.

It was a while before Stiles spoke. “Four years ago, I was in my first year of college. Went to a frat party. I was young and stupid and drunk, I - uh - I hit on the wrong guy.” Stiles didn’t look at Derek as he talked. “He got mad, I backed down. Later I was heading back to my dorm alone, and the guy cornered me with a couple of his friends. Beat the shit out of me.”

Stiles shook his head, laughing bitterly. “Like some shit out of an old movie about homophobia. Broke three ribs and my hand. Almost lost the eyesight in my right eye, I had a torn retina, had to have surgery.” He glanced over at Derek, his eyes heavy with a sadness. “After that I promised myself that I wouldn’t let things like that go... and tonight, when he threatened you –” Stiles reached out, brushing Derek’s hair back from his forehead – “how could I just let that go?”

Derek's lips parted. His heart hurt for the younger man.

Stiles dropped his hand and stubbed out the cigarette. Throwing it in the old coffee tin. “I’m going to bed.” Stiles left before Derek could say anything.

Derek stayed out on the porch for a while thinking about the man who’d crashed into the tree outside of Derek’s property.

Stiles almost seemed like a gift. From the universe. Repayment for all the years of solitude and living in fear, looking over his shoulder. It was like they’d known each other longer than three weeks. It was like they were intertwined, running together throughout history, like this wasn’t their first-time meeting. It was so easy and comfortable. In the short moments of knowing the man, Derek felt something he hadn’t felt since the fire. Or maybe even before that.

He felt alive.

He realized he’d been letting people in for a while now. Long before Stiles. Boyd, Erica, Ruby, Jimmy, Fred, Sheila. All people he was close to, that he cared about, that cared about him. Maybe adding one more person to that wouldn’t be terrible. Tomorrow he’d tell Stiles how he felt. Show Stiles how he felt. Before he lost the man completely.

Derek paused as he came in the cabin with Odie. Stiles was asleep in the bed, on top of the covers still in his shirt and jeans, his bruising hand tucked under his head.

They hadn’t slept together since the karaoke night. Derek could take the couch, but he knew that’s not why Stiles was in his bed. So he stripped down to his underwear and climbed over Stiles, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist and pulling him back into Derek’s chest.

Stiles let out a soft sigh and moved closer to Derek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics quoted in this chapter are taken from Always Gonna Love You (Acoustic) by Alana Springsteen.


	11. Chapter 11

A loud crash made him fly up in the bed. His heart racing and his muscles tensed for potential threat.

“Sorry!” Stiles shouted, he bent down and picked up a frying pan.

Derek groaned and laid back down, his heart rate decreasing rapidly. Odie rolled onto his back, nuzzling his nose into Derek’s side.

He rubbed Odie’s belly and watched as Stiles moved around the kitchen. He lit up the stove and put the pan on the flame. He was already showered and dressed. Seeing Stiles struggle to crack an egg, shaking his hips to a song in his head, made Derek smile.

How could he pass up the chance to have this for as long as he could?

Derek pulled himself out of bed and slipped on his jeans. Leaving his shirt off as he walked over to the kitchen. “Did Odie get out?”

“Yup.” Stiles popped the ‘p’. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

Derek poured a cup and turned around, leaning back against the counter.

Stiles mixed the eggs together, adding a dash of milk, and poured it into the pan. “I’m sorry about last night.” Stiles turned around to face him. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

Derek glanced down at Stiles’ hand. His knuckles were spotted with purple bruises. “How does it feel?”

“A little sore.”

“I shouldn’t have danced with you the way I did.”

“No,” Stiles said sharply. “Fuck that. We get to dance with whoever we want to. Fuck them for making it into something bad.”

Derek smiled. “A lot of people in this town are good people, a lot of people who really don’t care. But there’s the few that do and I should’ve protected you.”

“It just completes the Brokeback Mountain fantasy,” Stiles said sarcastically. Bitterly. He turned back to the stove.

“Let’s forget about last night, they’re not worth it.” Derek sat at the table. “I want to take you somewhere today.”

“I’m intrigued... where?”

“It’s a surprise. Somewhere I found a while ago but I’ve never shown anyone.”

“Although that sounds suspiciously like the start of a horror movie and I'm the dumb blonde girl that gets axe murdered, I'm in.”

They ate breakfast together and Stiles helped him with his morning routine of feeding the animals and doing what needed to be done around the barn before they could leave. Derek couldn’t even remember what it’d been like before Stiles. Life on his property, trail rides, visiting with Erica and Boyd. It all had become _Derek and Stiles_. 

The ride took longer with Stiles following. Derek kept Rhythm at an easy pace but she kept trying to go faster, she wanted the speed. He guided them across the plains and into the north forest, climbing the familiar path to the swimming hole. After many years, there was a faint trail made in the woods. The ground beaten down from hooves, a slight part in the vegetation.

Stiles was oddly quiet behind him as they rode.

They broke through the trees. The mountain rose up ahead of them, the river cascading down stacks of rocks, pooling at the bottom. Lush greenery grew thick around the water’s edge. The water a brilliant blue in the sunlight streaming down from the break in the trees.

Odie headed straight for the water.

“Holy shit, you’re really living in some kind of fairy-tale, aren’t you?” Stiles’ voice was out of place.

The swimming hole was serene, the water rushing, the birds chirping, and then Stiles’ silvery voice. Penetrating any kind of semblance of peace. But it made Derek smile.

“Yeah.” Was all he could say because his life was far from a fairy-tale. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

“I love it.”

Derek got off Rhythm and led her over to the edge of the water where the trees dipped down, brushing against the surface. He tied her rein to the tree. Making sure she could drink from the pool.

Stiles followed suit. Only struggling a bit to get off of Dakota. He brought her over and Derek took the reins from him.

Stiles stretched. His shirt riding up, revealing dark hair that led down into his jeans. “How’d you find this place?”

“I have a lot of free time, found it years ago when I was riding.”

Stiles pulled his shirt away from his chest. “I’m so hot.”

“That’s what the water is for.”

Derek took the pack off of Rhythm along with her saddle. Then he took off Dakota’s saddle and put it on the ground.

Stiles grabbed the blanket Derek had packed and spread it across the sandy ground in an open area near the water’s edge.

Derek pulled off his shirt and didn’t miss the way Stiles’ eyes traced down his chest. It wasn’t unwelcome, that kind of attention. Stiles didn't do it in the usual shallow way others looked at him. 

He raised an eyebrow challenging Stiles. After three weeks, he’d yet to see the man without clothes.

Stiles just smirked and took off his shirt. Moles dotted his skin and a smattering of dark hair down the length of his chest. A long scar traced up his stomach. Stretching from his hip up to just under his ribs. Must’ve been fairly recent based on the color. Angry red against pale white.

He followed Derek’s gaze down to the scar and shrugged. “Best friends sometimes, y’know?”

No. Derek did not know. What kind of best friend does something like that?

Stiles flicked open his jeans and pushed them down. The look he flashed Derek was one of challenge now.

Derek slipped out of his boots and socks, pulling his jeans down and off his feet.

Stiles followed him into the pool. The cold river water refreshing relief against the hot July sun.

Stiles fell backwards, floating to the surface and staring at the sky. Thick muscles ran up his arms. His legs slim but muscular, dotted with moles like the rest of him. His wet underwear pulled tight over his half-hard dick, the length stretching towards his hip.

Derek ducked underneath the water and let it cool down his skin and thoughts. He came up for air, brushing his hair back as he stood up.

Stiles watching him with a hungry look. The air between them buzzed with unsaid words. As if they both knew what was coming but they were waiting for the other person to make the first move.

They stayed in the water a long time. Stiles told him about the time he almost drowned in the ocean. And Derek admitted he’d never even been to the ocean before.

After Derek’s fingers turned to prunes, they dragged themselves out of the water, lying down on the warm sun-soaked blanket. Odie was lying in the grass, bathed in the sunlight, his soft snores could only be heard with Derek's hearing.

They ate their packed lunch and cracked open beers. He’d never brought someone here but Stiles fit in seamlessly. The way he did in every aspect of Derek’s life.

Stiles laid back on the blanket, smoking his first cigarette since getting there.

Derek’s fingers slid over the scar. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

“It was an accident.” Goosebumps rose on his skin as Derek touched him. “Needed a ton of stitches... but it wasn’t as bad as it looks.”

“And your friend did this to you?”

“Yeah. _Accidentally_. He'd never do something like this on purpose. Derek –” Stiles caught his hand, stopping him from touching the scar – “I’ve had a lot worse.”

That didn’t make him feel better. Derek leaned down and pressed a kiss to the healed wound. Stiles’ heart and breath stuttering above him. Arousal from both of them heavy in Derek’s nose.

Derek sat back up and pulled his knees toward him. “Where’s this best friend now?”

“I actually don’t know.” Stiles sat up. “Haven’t seen him in a while, I miss him.”

“Sounds like he means a lot to you.” Derek couldn’t help but think maybe there was hesitation from Stiles because of his best friend. Maybe there were feelings there that Derek didn’t realize.

“Well yeah, we’re like brothers... met the first day of kindergarten.”

Like brothers. Those words eased any of the jealousy Derek was feeling.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. He’s been there through it all. Which is why something like this is –” he gestured to the scar – “is nothing.” Stiles stubbed out his cigarette in the dirt and stood up. “I’m going back in the water.”

Stiles floated around as Derek pulled out the book he brought. Finding a moment of peace, listening to Stiles’ heart beat steadily. He read a dozen or so pages before Stiles came out of the water.

“Whatcha reading?” Stiles asked. Standing up above Derek, water drops running down his chest and legs.

Derek quickly looked back at the book. “Just a collection of short stories.”

In an uncharacteristically forward move, Stiles laid down and settled his head on Derek’s bare thighs. “Read to me?”

Derek flipped back a few pages to a section he liked. “‘ _You mean the Garden of Death,’ she whispered_ ,” he read softly. “‘ _Yes death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence_ ,’ –” Derek sunk his other hand into Stiles’ wet hair and ran his fingers across his scalp, continuing to read – “‘ _To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace. You can help me. You can open for me the portals of death's house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger_ –’”

Stiles jolted up.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, lowering the book.

Picking up his pack of cigarettes, Stiles wouldn’t look at him. He tapped the cigarette against the carton and put it between his lips before lighting it.

“Stiles, what is it?”

“Nothing.” He punctuated the word with a sharp intake of the cigarette.

“Don’t like Oscar Wilde?” Derek quirked an eyebrow, hoping to get at least a small smile from the other man.

Stiles turned away looking into the forest. “Guess not.”

Derek put down the book and stood up. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Stiles’ laughter choked with tears and he spun around. “God... that’s what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” Derek frowned. “You let us get close, you give me these _looks_ and then you just pull away, I’m okay with us leaving this as friends... but I don’t know what you want.”

Stiles took a shuddery breath. “I want you,” he said. "In a way I've never wanted someone."

Chills spread over Derek’s back with those words.

Stiles looked down at the cigarette between his fingers. “But there’s stuff you don’t know... about me and things I have left to finish and I really don’t want to fuck this up.”

“I haven’t had feelings for anyone in a long time... and it’s never been like this,” he admitted, more confident with Stiles’ words. “When you’re ready, I’m here.”

Stiles nodded, his head bobbing shakily.

Derek meant it. He’d wait as long as Stiles wanted him to because there was nothing that compared to the feeling of being with him.

He didn’t even care if Stiles didn’t want anything romantic. It would be nice, but Derek would take any type of relationship with the man because there was no one else that understood Derek the way that Stiles did. No one else that he could spend so much time with and still enjoy their presence. No one that made him forget about his past and made him look forward to the future.

They groomed the horses together, Derek giving quiet instructions of what to do, before they put them in their individual barn stalls. The sky had darkened with an impending storm and Derek didn’t want them left out in the field all night. Especially because he didn’t know how Rhythm would react.

Derek started up the barbecue and sat on the porch while Stiles went for a run. Said he needed to clear his head.

Odie started to whine, his ears flat against his head.

“What’s up boy?” Derek ran his hand over Odie’s back. “The storm?”

The dark clouds quickly rolled in as the winds picked up, blowing in cool air.

There was something going on with Stiles. Derek tried to put the pieces together. Something was bothering him. The almost panic attack, his best friend, his comment about not being a good person. His comment about revenge and his dad's death. Whatever it was, whatever he claimed he had left to finish, Derek hoped he wasn't planning on doing something stupid.

A crack of thunder burst through the air, Odie went running into the cabin. It started to lightly rain. The first thunderstorm all summer. With another loud boom of thunder and a flash of lightning, the sky opened up and poured down.

Stiles came around the side of the cabin laughing. His hair pulled down against his forehead from the rain. He walked up the porch steps. “That came out of nowhere,” he said.

The sweet, sharp smell of his sweat broke through the smell of the rain as he got close.

Derek moved over to the barbecue. “Thought I was going to have to go looking for you.” He flipped the chicken on the barbecue, closing the lid. “How was the run?”

“Good. Just what I needed.” Stiles stretched his back. “Do I have time for a shower?”

“Sure.”

Stiles went into the cabin and Derek could hear the shuffling of his feet.

“Odie, it’s okay buddy, nothing to be scared of,” Stiles cooed.

After showering Stiles joined him to watch the storm. The rain came straight down, the porch roof covering them from getting wet.

“You okay?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, sorry for being weird the past couple days.”

“No need to apologize.”

Stiles cleaned up dinner, insisting that Derek sit and relax on the porch. It was dark out early with the clouds covering the sky. The rain still poured down but the thunder was just low rumbles as it rolled away, heading west. Odie had come out from the cabin and laid by Derek’s feet.

“Oh shit,” Stiles said.

He turned around in the chair and the cabin was dark.

“Power’s out.” Stiles leaned against the doorframe.

“I have a generator.” Derek slipped on his shoes.

“I can help you.”

They turned on the generator at the side of the barn and Stiles followed him into the barn.

Stiles pet Rhythm’s nose as Derek made sure everything was good from the storm. Rhythm lowered her head down to Stiles’ shoulder and he looped his arm around her neck, grinning at Derek. “She must’ve got used to my annoying ass being around all the time.”

“That makes two of us,” Derek said.

Stiles scoffed and pushed him. “Oh really?” He gave Rhythm a final pat before rubbing Dakota’s nose in the next stall. “And you Dakota? Are you used to my annoying ass?”

She nickered at him and pressed into his hand.

“Seems like it,” Derek said.

They stepped into the rain, Derek latching the barn door shut. Walking back towards the cabin, Stiles jumped on his back, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist.

“Hurry up! We’re getting soaked.” Stiles laughed in his ear.

Derek turned his head to the side. Their faces inches apart. Rain rolling down their skin.

Stiles gasped, not hesitating as he closed the distance, finally kissing Derek. There was a harsh sting of nicotine on his tongue. Maybe with someone else it would’ve turned Derek off, but now Derek just kissed him deeper.

Stiles’ hand reached around and cupped the side of Derek’s face, scratching his fingers through Derek’s beard.

He’d never have enough of this. Whether they spent the rest of their lives together or this was the only kiss he got.

Stiles tilted his head and kissed him more frantically. Pulling his face in closer with a sharp bite of fingernails against Derek's jaw. Like the oxygen that Stiles needed to survive was being held in Derek’s chest. And then suddenly, it was gone, Stiles’ lips against his, his hand against Derek’s cheek.

Derek’s eyes opened.

Within inches of his own face, Stiles stared at him with his eyebrows pulled together.

Derek put Stiles down and turned around. Keeping his hands on Stiles' hips, slipping a thumb underneath his shirt and tracing across the sharp jut of his hipbone.

“I thought you didn’t want this right now.”

“I cleared my head and you were still there.” Stiles’ fingers curled around Derek’s bicep, digging into his flesh. “And I have half a mind to be a good person –” he smiled, small and sad – “but I haven’t been a good person in a long time.” His other fist twisted in Derek’s soaked shirt and he was pulling Derek back in.

They stumbled their way back to the cabin. Across the lawn and up the stairs. Derek kicked the door shut behind them and they stopped beside the bed.

Stiles pulled away. His eyes running over Derek’s face. Before pressing a single, soft kiss to Derek’s lips.

He never had the touch of loving hands on his body. His first love was too young, died in his arms, bitten by a bloodthirsty alpha. Their love never reached the point of selflessness. It was all desperate make outs in any spot they could find.

His second took what she wanted. Scratches down his back that healed in seconds but somehow the burning feel sunk deep into his skin. Bite marks and bruises over his body he tried to stop his body from healing so she didn’t know about him. But he was the one that didn’t know. Didn’t know that she’d take what she wanted and cast him aside once he had no use anymore.

Now, Stiles unbuttoned Derek’s shirt with his long slender fingers and pushed it gently off his shoulders. His hands hesitated on the bottom of Derek’s t-shirt and he flicked his eyes up, asking for permission.

Derek raised his arms and let himself be stripped bare in front of the man he’d only known for a couple weeks. How quickly they fell together. Fit together like they were carved of the same material.

Stiles ran his fingers down Derek’s chest, not in the possessive way _she_ used to, not like he was an object to be used. But with a sense of trepidation. Like he couldn’t believe Derek was real.

“Get out of your head,” Stiles whispered. He pulled Derek’s belt open and undid the button. This side of Stiles was new. Moving with a grace and sureness he never had. There was more to meet the eye. How could he trust this man? Three weeks wasn’t a long time to know someone. Especially in Derek’s life.

“Derek,” Stiles murmured again. “I can feel you drifting.”

He let himself get pulled back into Stiles. Against his better judgment he let his walls down. His mind saying not to trust Stiles but his heart – his whole body – was crashing towards the man.

Stiles shoved the soaked jeans down and Derek stepped out of them. Spinning them, Stiles pushed his hips towards the bed. The back of his knees hitting the edge and he let himself fall backwards.

“Turn over,” Stiles said, standing above him.

Derek rolled onto his stomach, his head on his arms. He didn’t like this. It felt more vulnerable than when he was showing his stomach. He couldn’t see Stiles. Just had to blindly trust him.

There was a rustling of clothes and the bed dipped. Stiles swung his legs over Derek’s thighs. The outline of his hard dick pressing against Derek’s clothed ass. His heart sped up at what Stiles might want. He’d never done that before. 

“What are you doing?” Hating that his voice came out strangled and a little scared.

Stiles ran his warm hands up Derek’s back and the tension rushed away. The apprehension of having his back to Stiles was gone with the one touch.

“It’s called a massage.” His lips brushing across Derek’s back, his breath hot across the triskelion that had been burned into his skin.

Derek had never been touched in a way to make him feel good without a sexual intention behind it. As Stiles rubbed his back, he sunk into the bed. Even though his muscles healed fast and Derek didn’t get sore from physical labor, Stiles worked a lingering ache from his body. It had festered under his skin. Came from always being ready for fight-or-flight. Years of being tense and looking over his shoulder for threats.

Stiles dug his thumbs into a knot near Derek’s shoulder and Derek couldn’t hold in the sob that came with it.

Stiles froze, lifting his hands away. “Derek?”

“I’m okay,” he said, sucking in a trembling breath.

“Did I hurt you?”

No. Not physically. Couldn’t hurt him physically. But it felt like Stiles had reached into his chest and grabbed his heart. Cut him open on a metal table and left him on display. Prying from him the secrets he kept close one-by-one.

He bit his fist to keep the next sob from rising up out of his throat.

“Derek?” Stiles’ hand touched his shoulder so gently, lovingly, it dragged another sob from Derek. “What’s wrong?” Stiles moved off of him.

Derek took comfort in being stomach down now. Easier to hide the look in his eyes he knew showed just how broken he was.

Soft fingertips were on his back, stroking up and down his spine, with a touch that was barely there. Stiles sat quietly as Derek tried to get back in control.

Finally, he gasped in deep breath. And rolled over. Stiles sat crossed legged, his face concerned as he looked down at Derek.

“I guess you’re not the only messed up one.” Derek laughed, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, his hand landing on Derek’s thigh. “Don’t be.”

“I’m not usually like this in bed.”

“And I don’t usually go around punching old men.” Stiles shrugged. “We’re all works in progress.”

Derek cracked a smile. “Larry deserved it.”

“Larry definitely deserved it.” Stiles leaned down and kissed him gently. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Derek twisted his fingers in Stiles’ wet hair and pulled him back in.

Stiles left the door open as he smoked. His long body stretched as he leaned back against the railing.

“Stop poisoning yourself and get back in here!” Derek yelled.

Through the window, a smile spread across Stiles’ face, he blew a puff of smoke towards Derek.

“It’s a little chilly out there from the rain.” Stiles said as he came in the cabin and shut the door.

“Wouldn’t have that problem if you quit.” Derek rolled onto his side. “Come back to bed.”

“Sure thing, cowboy.”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hat from the hook beside the door and placed it on his head. He sauntered over to the bed and climbed on top of Derek.

“What do you think?” Stiles smiled down at him.

Derek ran his hands up the taut skin of Stiles’ pale chest. Flicking his thumbs over Stiles’ nipples. Stiles shivered in response, his dick hardening.

“Suits you.”

He grabbed Stiles’ hips and pulled him down, rubbing their dicks together. Stiles moaned deep in his throat. The hat fell to the bed as Derek rolled them over. He kissed down Stiles’ chest, brushing his mouth over the scar. The skin smooth and hot under Derek’s lips. Finally getting to touch, taste, do what he'd wanted since he met the man.

And he’d never wanted someone so desperately. Never needed to be close with someone like this. He wanted Stiles under him, Stiles’ weight pressing him down into the bed, he wanted Stiles in all of his senses, all around him. All-consuming.

Derek pushed his hands up Stiles’ legs and grabbed his hips. Mouthing at the outline of his hard dick through the underwear.

“Derek... Derek...” Stiles said quickly, pushing on his shoulders. He propped himself up on his elbows. “I don’t want to have sex tonight, I want to take things slow.”

Derek sat back on his heels. “Slow?”

He’d never taken things slow before. Even his first love in high school was a big whirlwind. After that it was all casual sex with people he’d only known for a couple days at most.

“Is that alright?”

“Yeah.” Derek ran his hand up Stiles’ thigh, the coarse hair rough against his fingertips. “We can go slow.”

“Come here.” Stiles reached out for him.

Derek hovered over him, keeping most of his weight off Stiles, his elbows on either side of the man’s head.

Stiles reached up, dragging his thumb across Derek’s lips. “This is important to me.”

“Me too.”

Stiles didn’t know how much. He couldn’t realize the weight of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek reads an excerpt from The Canterville Ghost by Oscar Wilde.


	12. Chapter 12

The other side of the bed was still warm when he woke up. Dust swirled in the golden streams of sunlight making the cabin hazy as he listened for sounds of Stiles.

He was talking. Outside of the cabin. Most likely on the phone, based on the lack of another heartbeat or voice. Just close enough that Derek could faintly hear him but too far for Derek to be able to hear the other person.

“I told you I need more time.”

Derek frowned. 

“You’re one to talk... a little hypocritical don’t you think?”

Derek pushed himself out of bed and walked over to the living room window. He could just catch a glimpse of the man.

Stiles paced near the barn, cigarette between his fingers, he stopped and leaned against the barn. Throwing his head back in frustration, the morning sun hitting his face. “For fuck’s sake, I’m asking for a couple more days... I just need time to come up with a new plan. I can’t let them hurt him. He’s not what they said he was. He has a fucking _farm_ , does that –”

Derek’s nerves prickled. Apprehension soaked its way back into his body.

“Just – Ally – will you let me talk?” Stiles grimaced and sucked in a deep drag of the cigarette. “A day that’s all I need.” Stiles hung up the phone, putting it back in his pocket.

Derek ducked away from the window and went into the washroom, turning on the shower and climbing in.

What the fuck was he thinking taking in Stiles? Just because he was injured didn’t make him trustworthy. _Told you so_ , his mind taunted. He turned up the heat of the water letting it burn away the memory of Stiles’ touch from his skin.

Who was this man he let into his cabin? His life?

As much as he tried to hide from that whole world, he still had a target on his back. Literally. The triskelion tattoo marked him as a Hale. The last one alive.

At the memory of Stiles’ lips on his tattoo, he growled, punching the wall. The tiles cracked. His knuckles healing as the blood ran down the drain. How could he be so stupid? He wasn’t raised like this. If anything, the past sixteen years taught him not to trust anyone, as innocent as they seemed. But old habits die hard. First Kate. Now Stiles.

When he came out of the bathroom, Stiles was sitting at the table with breakfast made.

“Hey,” Stiles said with a smile. Completely different than the man on the phone just half an hour ago.

Derek realized how much of a stranger he really was. He didn’t know anything about him. Didn’t know his real name or where he was from. Almost nothing about his friends or family or really anything about his life.

Derek nodded and walked to the dresser in just his underwear. Feeling entirely exposed in a bad way but he couldn’t let Stiles know that. Right now, he had the upper hand. Stiles didn’t know he overheard the conversation and that he put two and two together. Derek tugged on his clothes.

“I have to go to town, need anything?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head and sat down across from the man. He didn’t ask where Stiles was going. That wasn’t how he was. He didn’t question Stiles. But he should’ve. Shouldn’t have accepted him so easily.

“Okay, I’m going to head out now then. Maybe when I get back we could go for a ride?” Stiles stood up, collecting his plate and coffee cup. “It’s another beautiful day out there.”

“Maybe.”

Stiles washed his dishes and moved to stand beside Derek. “You alright?”

“Fine.”

Stiles bent down and pressed a kiss to Derek’s forehead. It took all his restraint not to shift right then and grab Stiles’ throat.

“See you later.” Stiles grabbed his wallet and the keys to his car. He patted Odie’s head and left.

Derek needed a plan. Before Stiles came up with his new plan.

Derek finished breakfast and cleaned up. He went through his usual morning routine, Odie following his every step. He led Dakota and Rhythm back into the field, the storm completely gone, as if it hadn't happened.

“Hey girl.” Derek brushed his hand up Rhythm’s nose. She nudged his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut tight to stop the tears. His heart slowly falling to pieces.

He fed the chickens. In the middle of the current situation, it felt completely out of place. By the time he finished around the property, the sun was high in the air.

As he walked back to the cabin, he noticed one of the boards at the base of his cabin was detached in the one corner. The cabin sat up off the ground and Derek had boarded it in a while ago to try and deter animals from living under it. Looks like he needed to do a repair.

There were no sounds of animals coming from under the cabin. He crouched down and pulled the board to the side a bit. No animals but there was a garbage bag. Not put there by him.

Any other morning, he probably would’ve walked by the broken board. Probably had been for a while now. This morning he was on edge and his senses instinctively heightened. Noticing things that were out of place.

Without hesitation, he ripped open the garbage bag, there it was, underneath the cabin floor he walked on every day, a backpack. He didn’t have to look in it to know it belonged to Stiles. No one else would’ve hid it there. Plus, his scent was all over it. One thing he couldn’t hide.

He unzipped the bag and wasn’t even surprised to see a pistol and wolfsbane bullets sitting on top.

Stiles wasn’t new to a gun. He knew that. And based on his phone conversation earlier as well as the _coincidence_ of Stiles crashing into a tree on the secluded road near Derek’s property, Derek already figured he was a hunter.

He flipped through the papers, information about Derek and his family... the fire. He already knew it all. Derek talked to him about it, thought he was sharing something personal, but the whole time Stiles knew.

There was a passport and Derek’s heart stopped when he read the name.

_Mieczysław Stilinski._

He’d heard of the hunter Mieczysław over the past couple of years. He was responsible for taking out Peter and Deucalion, along with other supernaturals. Responsible for killing half of a rival hunting family, the Calaveras, in one mass slaughter. Raised by the Argents after his dad was killed by Laura.

Which is probably why he came for Derek. If there was one group more set on revenge than werewolves, it was the Argent family.

_My dad was murdered too. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting revenge if you did._

It was hard to believe that Stiles was Mieczysław Stilinski. Unassuming, talkative, ungraceful, _friendly_. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Ironic. Because right about now, Derek felt like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

He wasn’t even angry. After this many years of people lying to him and hunting him, he was just tired. Maybe he should just put it all back down under the cabin and let Stiles – Mieczysław – carry out his plan.

Was it all even worth it anymore? Fighting every day for his own existence, for what? A sad little cabin on a property away from all civilization? Nights spent in a dive bar with a bunch of drunks? The memories that plagued his mind, night and day?

Paige's whimpers as the bite poisoned her blood. His family’s screams in the fire. Kate’s wicked smile as she licked up his chest. His eyes turning red in the mirror and not even having the guts to go back for the person who murdered Laura. Stiles’ hands all over him, his innocent eyes focused on Derek, watching him, getting underneath his skin.

It was worse than Kate. She never pretended, Derek had been too young and naïve to realize, she didn’t have to pretend. She tore into him and left him to bleed.

Stiles covered himself up. Pretending he was the innocent and naïve man. He was playful, teased the softer side out of Derek. Letting him get comfortable, getting him to let go of his carefully built up walls. It was worse.

Derek loved him.

At least the man Mieczysław pretended to be.

He found case files relating to Mieczysław’s father. The sheriff of Beacon Hills. Derek was right when he felt like they were intertwined, running through history. Their families were connected. They were from the same fucking town. His sister had murdered Mieczysław’s father.

Underneath it all, a sheriff’s badge, a woman's locket, and a photo album.

Derek flipped through it. Photos of a young Mieczysław with his parents. A loving family and a carefree smile. That was the Stiles he knew.

Slowly, through the photos the smile became weary. It was still genuine, but there was a pain in his eyes that was only recognizable by someone who had felt the same pain. Pictures of him and another boy his age. Pictures of the two of them with a dark-haired girl.

The three of them clearly friends. He wondered if they were the ones Stiles told vague stories about. Some of the only information he offered. There wasn’t any deception when he told the stories so Derek figured they were true or at least versions of the truth. Hunters were good. They knew how to get past a werewolf’s senses.

Especially one that was tired.

And with a punch to his gut, there was Stiles, in the midst of the Argents. With Kate’s arm resting on his shoulders. 

* * *

He was fucked. Absolutely one hundred percent fucked. He tried to avoid a kiss. Derek seemed intent on making it happen. Taking him to the swimming hole. Reading him goddamn _Oscar Wilde_. Kissing his scar. Stiles tried to resist it but he couldn’t. Not when he knew there was a good chance he wasn’t going to be around long enough to be with Derek.

That morning, he’d woken up with his head on Derek’s chest and made a decision. There was no way he was getting Derek involved. They'd make a new plan. Allison disagreed. Told him that he wasn’t thinking straight. He shouldn’t let his feelings get to him. They needed Derek. It didn’t work without Derek.

But Stiles had the advantage. He was the only one that knew where Derek was. And he was going to keep it that way even if it killed him.

Stiles drove to town, his mind spinning with ideas of how to make this okay. How to not completely ruin everything.

Even if he gave up the revenge plan, Scott was still in danger. A lot of danger and Allison was right, they couldn’t keep living in a tiny apartment hiding out from the Argents. They just had to figure out how to do it without Derek.

Heading to the library he pulled out his laptop and logged onto to Gerard’s email account. The one advantage of having an out-of-touch old man as the head command of hunters is that he had no knowledge of technology. Trusted Stiles to set everything up for him and failed to realize that Stiles had access to all his accounts.

He hadn’t checked them in a while, falling into Derek, forgetting about everything else going on. His heart stopped when he saw an email from a couple days before.

He clicked on it, dizzy as he read over the words. _Found her... South America... new pack._

Holy fuck.

He’d been right and now because of him, they’d found another Hale. Derek’s fucking sister. If she wasn’t already dead she didn’t have long.

He had to get back to Beacon Hills. Tomorrow. He’d go, leave Derek behind and save his sister, save Scott.

Parking by the lake in a secluded parking lot, he sat on the newly fixed hood, watching the blue water sparkle in the sunlight as he dialed a number he remembered by heart.

“Hello?” Chris’ voice sounded unsure.

“It’s me.”

“Stiles? Where the hell have you been?”

“Looking into Derek Hale, like I was asked to.”

“Have you found him?”

“How much of this is all lies?” Stiles asked instead of answering.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure he was responsible for the Beacon County attacks?”

“Stiles, what is this?”

“All those violent attacks you guys have been tracking for ten years?" Stiles slid off the car. “What’s your proof it’s him?”

“Where are you? Where’s Allison and Scott? Are they with you?”

“Chris!” Stiles shouted. “Cut the fucking bullshit." He paced in front of the car. "Is Derek building a pack? How much of the past ten years have been a fucking lie?”

“You’ve seen what they do... we hunt those who hunt us.”

“What did the Hales do? There were _children_ in that fire. _Humans_.”

Chris' voice hardened. “That wasn’t us.”

“You sure?” Stiles kicked a rock into the thick vegetation at the edge of the parking lot. “Because that’s the first place I started when you asked me to find Derek and guess what I found?”

Chris was quiet on the other end.

“It was an Argent. Two of them actually, planned and executed,” Stiles said. "I'll give you one guess as to which two Argents it was."

“No, that’s not right.”

“So I’m going to ask one more time, how much of all of this is lies? Because the man I found, he’s not the alpha you guys talk about.”

Chris sucked in a sharp breath. “You found him.”

“Where’s Kate?” 

“I don’t know.”

“See, now that doesn’t help me.” Stiles ran his hand through his hair.

“Think about what we’ve done for you, without us you would’ve been in foster care.”

“Yeah, thanks for that... I really wanted to learn to shoot a gun at fourteen. I wanted to spend my life learning to hate a group of people on baseless accusations. I wanted to be brainwashed into becoming a murderer –” Stiles took a deep breath – “and now I want Kate’s location.”

“And we want Derek’s.”

“If I get Kate’s location... I’ll bring you Derek.”

“What are you going to do to her?”

“Have a chat.” Stiles laughed. “Chris, what do you think? _I know._ I know what she did. The Hales weren’t the only innocent people she’s killed.”

“Stiles –”

“Her location. I’ll give you a day.”

He hung up before Chris could respond.


	13. Chapter 13

_“Stiles?”_

_“A nickname.”_

Derek got rid of the gun and bullets. Dumping them in the ground and burying them in the forest. He nailed the board back in place.

_“You could stay at my place.”_

_“For tonight?”_

_“For however long you need.”_

Leashing Odie up to his dog house, Derek threw the backpack under his bed and waited at the kitchen table.

_Just passing through._

Stiles was everywhere in the cabin. His clothes from yesterday strewn across the floor, his towel hanging on the open bathroom door. His red Stanford hoodie slumped over the back of the couch. Duffel bag beside Derek’s dresser. And where there were no objects, there were memories.

_“You’d shoot an animal just because it’s following its instincts?”_

_“Depends... sometimes you have to kill the rabid dog.”_

His delicate hands on the coffee pot, seemingly incapable of murder, pouring the steaming coffee into two cups. The long stretch of his body on the couch, his arm thrown across his face, soft snores rising up into the air.

_Are you who I have to answer to if I break his heart?_

The dip of his head as he talked about his parents, sadness in his shoulders. Or his head thrown back in laughter – the sound loud, ringing, pure.

_You’re so good. Why are you so good?_

His eyes. The sparkle that never left them. Across the crowds, pointing at Derek as he sang, seeking Derek out.

_Not all of us have responsibilities we can just run from. They catch up with you eventually. Mine are coming hard and fast..._

He’d been everywhere. Everywhere in the cabin, the barn, his property. Even the town. Nowhere was free from memories of Stiles.

_I’m not who you think I am._

After this Derek was going to have to move... leave all this behind because he couldn’t face those memories every day. Couldn’t face what he was about to do.

_This town is growing on me._

_Don’t you ever fucking threaten him again._

_I want you._

_There’s stuff you don’t know._

_I haven’t been a good person in a long time._

_I can’t let them hurt him. He’s not what they said he was._

_What they said he was._ What the hell did they tell him about Derek?

He stood up, pushing the table, and stalked to the bathroom. When he looked in the mirror, the red eyes stared back. Only a few times had he seen them over the past ten years and every time they made him want to claw his eyes out.

He took a deep breath, throwing cold water on his face. There were so many signs. Now that he looked back. So many things that didn't add up or things Stiles had said. Things that Derek ignored or didn't question, all because he was lonely. 

How was that Stiles, the one he’d come to know, a heartless hunter? It was his whole act, Derek knew that. But his words weren’t lies, there was never a hint of deception _._

_If I was a good person I’d leave tonight._ He meant that. The emotions of happiness and something close to love when he was near Derek, they weren’t fake.

The rumble of a car engine announced Stiles’ return and Derek steeled himself for the coming fight. Because Stiles wouldn’t go easy. Even though he was weaponless, he wouldn’t be defenseless.

He sat back down at the table and watched through the window.

Stiles sang lowly under his breath as he walked towards the cabin, Derek could just make out the lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac song Stiles always listened to. In his arm was a brown paper bag from the store.

Derek’s claws dug into his palms. He didn’t love this man. He loved a version. A façade made to trick Derek.

The door opened and Stiles stepped in. He gave Derek a smile, his eyes downcast... he smelled _sad_.

“I got us steak... thought I could make dinner for a change.” He put the keys on the hook beside the door and paused. “Are you just waiting for me?”

“Yes.” Derek managed to get out.

“I’m honored.” He moved across the cabin like it was his own, putting the bag down on the counter. “Ran into Ruby, she says hi.”

Derek’s claws dug deeper into his palms. Warm blood ran down his skin.

“I also got us more beer.” Stiles opened the fridge and put the food away.

“Why’d you go out?” Derek asked.

“I got us groceries,” Stiles said indifferently. Like it explained his absence for the past couple hours.

“We didn’t need anything.”

“We needed beer, that’s enough for a trip in itself.”

Derek took a deep breath, stealing one more moment of peace between them. He stood up, his fists still clenched, and Stiles closed the fridge door, turning to face him.

“You seem off, what’s wrong?” Stiles frowned.

“Why don’t you tell me, _Mieczysław_?”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he went for the door. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of this one.

Derek growled, grabbing him around the throat, his claws digging in. He shoved the hunter against the fridge. Bottles of beer clanked together with the force. Blood from Derek’s palms smearing against the pale skin of Stiles' neck.

“Wait –” Stiles’ hands came up to Derek’s grip around his throat – “I can explain.”

Derek squeezed tighter so he couldn’t talk. “I don’t want an explanation,” he said, before throwing Stiles across the cabin.

Stiles hit the wall and fell to the floor with a thud. Without hesitation, he scrambled forward, towards the coffee table.

A ripping noise made Derek’s steps falter. Stiles raised his arms out in front of him. A pistol in his hands.

Tears flooded Stiles’ eyes as he cocked the gun. “Stop,” he shouted. “Please just stop.” His hands shook. “I don’t want to shoot you, please don’t make me do this.” The tears ran down his cheeks.

“You don’t want to shoot me?” Derek roared. “Then what did you come to do?”

Stiles sucked in a breath. “If you’d just stop, I can explain things. This isn’t what you think it is, I didn’t –”

Derek took a step closer.

Stiles tilted his head to the side. “Derek, please.” His chest hitched with a sob.

“All this time you were just one of them.”

The only emotion coming off of Stiles was sadness.

It made Derek angrier. He surged forward.

A loud bang went off. Followed by a second. Sharp pains in his shoulder and leg made Derek stumble. The wolfsbane burning as it entered his bloodstream.

“Stop. Please Derek, please just stop,” Stiles said.

Derek saw nothing but red. He pushed his body through the pain and knocked the gun out of Stiles’ hand, a third round going off. The gun landed on the ground near the bookshelf. Ceiling tile dust fell on them from the bullet hole.

He dragged Stiles up by the front of his shirt.

“Those were wolfsbane bullets,” Stiles said. "You have to get them out." 

“Why do you care?”

Stiles' face was a mess of tears and snot as he sobbed.

“Why’d you come here? To kill me in retaliation for your father? Because Laura is already dead, this is the way you can finally get your revenge?”

Stiles shook his head. “Laura didn’t kill my dad.”

Derek wavered. If Laura didn’t kill his dad, who did?

Stiles used the advantage to kick him in the leg. Derek retracted in pain. It was like Stiles stuck a white-hot iron rod in his wound.

Stiles pushed him and spun away. He landed on his knees and crawled towards the gun. Just reaching it as Derek grabbed his ankle and pulled him backwards.

Stiles turned over and pointed the gun at Derek again. “Let me go,” Stiles shouted. “Let me go and I can help.”

“It’s too late for that.” Derek growled as he shifted.

He moved with superhuman speed, twisting Stiles’ wrist and taking the gun from him. Standing up straight, he pointed the pistol at Stiles lying on the ground. The feeling strange in his hands. He didn’t like guns.

“Why did you come here?” His voice distorted from his teeth.

Stiles held up his hands. “I came here because I want Kate Argent dead.”

Anger took over at the mention of her name. Derek hit the side of Stiles' face with the butt of the gun, knocking the hunter out cold.

* * *

His muscles were weak. Throbs of pain pushed through his temple and down into his jaw. The urge to throw up washing over him. Fuck. Now that was a concussion. He had a couple over the years, had come to recognize the signs.

Behind his back, rope cut into the skin of his wrists. The hard wood of the kitchen chair dug into his spine. He pushed his eyes open.

Fuck. Derek sat at the table with all the information from Stiles’ backpack. He'd changed his clothes to clean ones without bullet holes and blood.

If he wasn’t completely out of it, he could’ve already untied the restraints. But what good would that do? Derek wouldn't listen to him. He'd probably just kill him.

“Derek,” he moaned, his head rolling backwards. “It’s – it’s not what you think.”

He had to explain. Had to get the words out. Had to tell Derek all of it. The whole story. Tell him the new plan. Where Derek could stay at the cabin and live.

“I really don’t care what your explanation is. I have nothing because of people like you.” The tender look in Derek’s eyes was gone. Replaced with raging hatred. “I’ve heard the stories. Mieczysław Stilinski, the next big hunter. Trained by the Argents. Taking down alphas like it’s nothing, killing the Calaveras like they were nothing.”

“I’ve only killed people who deserved it.”

“What about Peter?” Derek spat out.

Tears burned Stiles’ eyes. Peter Hale. Derek’s uncle. The first life he took.

“I haven’t hurt anyone. I didn’t even kill the hunters who came for me the day after Laura died. And yet, you’re here. Couldn’t just kill me though. You thought you’d play the same sick little game that Kate did?”

Stiles’ mouth opened in a breathless gasp. He should’ve known that Kate fucked around with Derek. During his investigation of the fire, he’d heard rumors that there was a leak, a Hale who unsuspectingly gave information over to the Kate, but Stiles didn’t realize how she got the information. Or who that Hale was.

That made what happened between him and Derek worse. A hundred times worse. There was no way he’d ever trust Stiles again.

“I – no – I didn’t, that wasn’t my plan.”

“Shut up.” Derek slammed his fist against the table. “At least Kate never pretended to be a good person, I was just sixteen and stupid.”

“I haven’t lied to you... nothing I’ve said has been a lie.”

“I know how hunters work. Partial truths, vague information, so we can’t catch a lie.” Derek’s stare bore holes in Stiles, he didn’t look away while they talked. Not once.

“Yeah... that’s what we do.” Stiles looked down. “But the person I was with you... that’s not a lie.”

“That’s not the same person who hunts _people_.”

“I – yeah, maybe not. Maybe it’s the person I could be, the person I want to be. If my life had gone differ–”

“Don’t blame this on a couple of dead parents. Do you know what I’ve lost?” Derek’s voice rose, the chair screeched on the tile as he stood up. “At the hands of people like you? I didn’t turn into a killer.”

“Without your alpha status, your eyes are blue. I know what that means.” It slipped out before he could stop it. He was sick of Derek sitting there, attacking him without knowing the full story.

Derek’s eyes flashed red, blood dripped onto the floor from his fists. “You know nothing,” he snarled, his nostrils flaring. He towered over Stiles, for the first time seeming like a powerful man. “Because you shoot first and don’t bother asking questions.”

“Kate has your sister,” Stiles said. He had to make Derek listen.

“My sister is dead.”

Stiles shook his head. Nausea rose in his throat. “Not Laura.” Stiles gasped in pain. “Cora.”

Derek’s face went through a dozen emotions – shock, confusion, sadness – settling on anger. He clenched his jaw. “You’re lying.”

“No listen to my heart, I'm - I'm not lying –” Stiles took a deep breath, pushing the urge to puke away – “the last time I saw Kate – about two months ago – she’d found out that there was a Hale alive that no one knew about.”

Derek stared past Stiles, his eyes darting around as if he was trying to piece it all together in his head.

“Living in South America with a different pack.” Stiles could feel unconsciousness pulling him down and he tried to hang on. “Kate’s gone underground, no contact with anybody for the past two months, until a couple days ago... she emailed Gerard, telling him she found Cora.”

Derek flicked his gaze back to Stiles.

“And if Kate has her, I don’t know how long she’ll keep her alive.”

“Cora died in the fire.”

“Don’t you think if I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead?” Stiles asked. “I put that gun under the table the _third_ morning I was here. I could’ve shot you any one of those nights, you were asleep right across from me. But I _didn’t_.”

“You should get a commendation.” Sarcasm slipped into his voice.

“That’s not what I meant... I could’ve easily taken you out. Three months ago, I was told to find you. Take you dead or alive, they didn’t care... but I didn’t kill you. That was never my plan. You don’t want to know why?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles continued anyways. “My dad died when I was twelve, I was told he got attacked by a werewolf. Chris Argent took me in as a favor to my dad and they raised me to be a hunter, just like they did to Allison. We were trained to be killers not anything else. What could I do? I was a _kid_.”

Derek looked at the ground as Stiles talked, but it seemed like he was listening.

“There were inconsistencies, in their stories. Moments when I questioned what the fuck they were doing. I saw omegas beg for their lives while Gerard cut them in half. I was forced to watch Kate torture teenage werewolves for information.” Stiles closed his eyes and steadied his head. “Months ago, they said you were behind the attacks happening in Beacon County, said you were making a pack to get revenge. I didn’t know any better so when they asked me to find you, I started looking. My best friend, Scott, he ended up bit.”

Derek looked at him now.

“He was an innocent. Didn’t know anything about this world and yet they would kill him if they knew... Kate disappeared and I threw myself into trying to find you, thought maybe it’d be our Hail Mary... I find Derek Hale the big bad alpha killing and turning people and the Argents don’t kill my best friend. Gerard found out about Scott so we fled, they're hiding out while I came for you. Bring you back to the Argents and finally get access to Kate. Maybe even Gerard. Scott could survive.”

Derek turned around, his back a straight tense line.

“When I was tracking Laura’s movements over the six years to try and find you, I realized there’s no way she killed my dad. She wasn’t even in town. I went through all my dad’s cases leading up to his death, he’d connected Kate to the fire and she killed him for it. And then used his death as an excuse to take out Laura. My whole life had been a lie." Stiles let out a pathetic breath, his voice breaking. "I didn’t come here to kill you, I came for revenge and to save my best friend, I want Kate and Gerard dead.”

Derek walked past him and out the front door. Leaving Stiles sitting on the chair in the middle of the cabin.

* * *

What the fuck could he do with the information Stiles had just given him? How could he believe it after Stiles spent three weeks covering up who he really was?

Years he’d spent angry at Laura for killing the sheriff and making herself an even bigger target. Anger over her returning to Beacon Hills, for leaving him on his own, but all that time… all those years and she hadn’t done anything. She was innocent and still got killed. He blamed her murder on her, his own sister, because he was blinded by the loneliness and anger of being left alone.

Cora was alive and Kate had her. Derek was falling in love while his sister was suffering? A sister he didn’t even know anymore. Sixteen years and she never once let him know she was alive. If Kate had her, there was a small chance she was still alive. But even with that small chance he needed to make sure she was safe. He was the reason his whole family died. Laura was murdered and he moved to a fucking farm.

There was no deception in Stiles’ story. It was all true. At least his truth. He had still murdered Derek’s uncle. Deucalion. The Calaveras – though Derek found it hard to feel any sympathy for them. But it was a pattern of Stiles’ behavior. He was more of a killer than Derek.

He’d go back to Beacon Hills, hand Stiles over to the Argents, they’d do whatever to him. Sounded like he wasn’t exactly in their favor. At least then Derek wouldn’t be responsible for his death. He’d get his sister out if she was still alive. Go back and rip out Kate’s throat. Probably wouldn’t make it out himself but he didn’t care anymore.

Brushing his hands through his hair, he stepped back in the cabin. Stiles was passed out again in the chair. The blow to the head a little more damage than Derek intended.

He collected important documents, for when he didn’t come back, putting them all in an envelope with a couple hundred in cash. He tidied the place up as much as he could. Cleaning up the blood and bullets from the bathroom. After he had knocked Stiles out, he pulled the bullets out and burned the wolfsbane from another, shoving it into the wounds the way he was taught at ten-years-old. Just in case.

Collecting Stiles’ things into the duffel bag, he didn’t want any of it left behind in case Derek happened to make it back. He threw it all in Stiles’ car. The truck wouldn’t make it to Beacon Hills.

Leaving Stiles on the chair he walked out to the field and pet Dakota. Going into the field, Rhythm greeted him at the gate, soft noises vibrating from her throat.

“Bye girl,” he said. “You gotta be good for whoever takes you in.” Rhythm bumped her nose off his cheek as if she understood.

He walked around the property one more time. His home for the past ten years, the place he had finally found some peace. And Stiles had torn it apart in just three weeks.

As he crouched down next to Odie, the dog licked his cheeks, jumping up on Derek's legs. Almost pushing him back onto the grass.

He scratched Odie’s face. “I’m sorry I trusted him,” he said. Mainly to himself.

Bringing Odie inside the cabin, he woke Stiles back up with a kick to the leg of the chair.

“What’s going on?” Stiles muttered, looking around. A dark bruise already forming on his temple from when Derek had hit him.

“We’re going to Beacon Hills.”

“What?” Stiles' body jolted and he pulled against the restraints. “Are you going to listen to my plan?”

“No.” Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles’ arm and pulled him up. “I’m giving you back to the Argents.”

“What? They’ll kill me.”

“Maybe that’s what you deserve,” Derek said. He grabbed Stiles’ car keys and the key to the cabin he never bothered using before.

Odie scratching and whining at the door as Derek locked it.

“You can’t just go storming in," Stiles said. "I don’t even know where Kate is... no one knows where she is.” His voice rushed, panicked.

“I’m sure she’ll come out for a Hale," Derek said as he dragged the hunter across the lawn.

He wrenched open the door and shoved Stiles down into the passenger seat.

Stiles looked up at him, tears running down his face, blood still smeared across his throat. “This is a suicide mission.”

“I don’t care,” Derek said.

He turned on the car and shut off the blaring radio. Not looking back as his old life disappeared in the rear-view mirror.


	14. Chapter 14

Derek parked the car on the street outside the bar. “If you run, I will be able to find you,” Derek said. “And if I find you I _will_ rip out your throat.”

Stiles sat slumped against the passenger door, his arms still tied awkwardly behind him. “I wouldn’t run anyways.”

Derek got out of the car and frowned. The bar was packed with people and it was only three p.m. He walked inside and Irish music blasted over the speakers, people singing and drinking. He pushed his way through the crowd to the bar, Erica and Boyd stood pouring drinks. Someone fell into him, pushing him against the bar, he shrugged them off.

“Hey Derek,” Boyd said. “How’s it going?”

Erica wiggled her eyebrows suggestively as she placed drinks on a tray. “You and Stiles holed up in your cabin?”

“I need a favor.”

There was a smash of glass and Derek spun around, Stiles still sat in the front of the car. It came from inside the bar.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked.

“Larry’s dead, wrapped his car around a tree the other night after the party. Drunk as a fucking skunk, just found him a couple hours ago,” Erica said. “Unofficial memorial before the real one.”

“Oh. I had no idea.”

Erica shrugged. “Not really anyone’s loss. But we’ll take the revenue.”

“What’s the favor?” Boyd asked, his eyes watching Derek.

“Better if we talk in private.”

Erica and Boyd looked at each other.

“Sally, tend bar for a minute,” Erica shouted.

Derek followed Erica and Boyd into the back office. He pushed his hearing beyond the music and people in the bar. Until it was focused on the heartbeat in the car.

“What’s going on?” Boyd asked.

He handed Boyd the envelope. “I need you to take care of my place for a couple of days. Feed the animals, bring Odie here... there’s money in the envelope for your help.”

Erica crossed her arms. “What’s this about?”

“In the envelope is also all the legal documents you need if something happens to me.”

“If something happens to you?” Boyd frowned.

“Yeah. If I don’t come around here by next week, then just move forward with the directions I’ve included in the envelope.”

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Erica dropped her arms.

“He’s Mieczysław Stilinski,” Derek said. Because he couldn't say anything else.

“What? Who –” Erica’s eyes flashed yellow with anger – “ _Stiles_.”

Boyd dropped the envelope to the desk. “He’s the hunter Mieczysław?” 

“Where’s the fucker?” Erica yelled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Derek took a shuddering breath. “I’m heading to Beacon Hills and there’s a good chance I’m not coming back.”

Erica erupted into a string of curses mixed with Stiles’ name, she paced around the office throwing up her arms and trying to make sense of what she’d just been told.

“I’m going with you,” Boyd said.

“No, you’re not. This is something I have to do myself. This is my fight to finish,” Derek said.

They didn’t put up much of a fight. Derek could just use his alpha abilities to make them stay. He wasn’t letting anyone else he cared about die because of him.

“I need one more thing though,” Derek said.

Derek pushed through the crowd of people and out onto the relatively quiet street. He got in the car and Stiles raised an eyebrow at the handcuffs in Derek’s hand.

“Erica and Boyd?” Stiles asked.

Derek didn’t answer, he undid the ropes around Stiles’ wrists and put on the handcuffs. They were normal, police grade handcuffs, nothing sexual in nature. Though that’s what Erica and Boyd used them for. Derek just had a feeling they’d have a pair based on comments made by Erica over the past seven years. Rope was easy to get out of, handcuffs made it a little harder.

Erica said she didn’t want them back. Derek said there was a good chance he wouldn’t be able to give them back anyways.

“What’s going on in there? It’s three p.m. on a Sunday.”

Derek answered him this time. Because the fight between Stiles and Larry was real. And he knew the story Stiles told him about his first year of college was real.

He turned the key. “Larry’s dead.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “What?”

Derek pulled away from the curb and headed for the highway that would bring them to California. “Drove drunk after the party.”

“Holy fuck.” Stiles sunk into the seat. “Guess the bastard kind of had it coming.”

Derek looked over at Stiles. “Yeah, guess he did.”

At first Stiles was silent next to him, his knee restlessly bounced as he watched the Wyoming landscape fly by.

Derek just kept running the night they met over in his head. Coming across the crash, easily accepting Stiles, carrying him into his cabin. How different his life would’ve been if Derek drove him to town instead.

An hour into the drive they passed through Yellowstone. The conversation during their hike in Derek’s mind.

_“You ever been to Yellowstone?”_

_“A few times.”_

_“Is it cool?”_

_“Yeah, maybe we can go.”_

_“Maybe.”_

He glanced over at Stiles and the man was already staring at him with a look that said he was thinking of the same thing.

“I wanted this to be different,” Stiles said, looking down at his cuffed hands. “I was trying to leave you out of this.”

Derek focused on the winding road ahead. Mountains rising up on either side of them. He honestly thought that him and Stiles would be good together.

_An alpha and a hunter._

Two hours into the drive Stiles got twitchier, his knee was like a jackhammer and his hand tapped on the door. Derek was about to throw him out of the fucking car.

“Stop,” Derek said.

“I need a smoke.” Stiles lifted his hand to his mouth to chew on his nails. His thumbnail still black from when he tried to help Derek fix his fence.

What was the point of the past three weeks? Why did he stay?

“Did you even go to Stanford?” Derek asked, suddenly, before he could stop himself. He needed to know, how much of it was lies.

“Yeah. Managed to graduate too even with all this bullshit going on.” Stiles rubbed his face. “Please just let me have one quick smoke.”

Derek carried on with his questions instead. “Why did you hide that gun if you weren’t here to kill me?”

Stiles sighed. “Contingency plan. Just in case Mr. Nice Guy was all an act. Or you found out about me, and reacted... well the way you did. I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’ve spent the past ten years fighting for my survival.” He snapped his jaw shut. “Fuck, can you just pull over?” He gritted out.

“Use this as an opportunity to quit.”

“I can’t. I’ve been smoking for too long. I’m going to go through withdrawal and that’s the last thing any of us need.” Stiles leaned his head back against the seat. “Come on, I have a fucking concussion, I haven’t eaten since this morning, and I need to take a piss... just pull over.”

“There’s nothing around for at least another couple hours.”

“A smoke then?”

“Smoke in the car.”

“That’s okay?”

“It’s your car," Derek said.

Stiles maneuvered himself so he could get his cigarettes and lighter out. He rolled down the window and lit a smoke, the tension in his body easing with the first breath.

“Why’d you stay?” The question slipped out.

“What?”

“You said you wanted to leave me out of this," Derek said. "Then why’d you fucking stay with me for three weeks?”

“I – it – I’m selfish and it was the first time I’ve felt okay in a long time. It was an escape from everything and to be honest, I don’t have anywhere to go...” Stiles stared at the cigarette in his fingers. “I’m graduated, I can’t go back to the Argent’s, and they control all my money.”

There was no reason for Derek to feel the wave of sympathy for Stiles that he did. But the man seemed so lost and sad, it was kind of hard not to.

Derek focused back on the road and pushed his lips together to stop the next question that was threatening to come out.

Around midnight, Derek pulled into a sketchy motel parking lot. Stiles asleep in the passenger seat. They’d only stopped once in the past nine hours to get some food. Derek was beat. The day’s events exhausting him.

He got them a room and woke Stiles up.

“Did you have to choose the rent by an hour motel?” Stiles asked as he got out of the car. He let out a long breath and stretched.

Without a word, Derek pulled out his bag and Stiles’ duffel.

The room was dirty. Décor from the seventies and smells that Derek didn’t want to know the origin of. A strange yellow shag carpet that might’ve been green at one point. The only new thing was the TV and even that was close to being outdated.

Stiles bee-lined it for the bathroom. “Thank god, I thought my bladder was going to explode,” he said as he shut the door behind him.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, a weird headache settling in, something he didn’t usually get. Tears sprung to his eyes and rubbed them away. Just one day, that’s all he had to hold it together for. He didn’t want to get his hopes up that his sister was actually alive, that he hadn’t lost his entire family, but he couldn’t help the sliver of hope that wedged its way into his heart anyways.

Stiles came out of the bathroom his neck cleaned of Derek’s blood. “Can we revisit the topic of you listening to my plan?”

“No.”

“I’m going to tell you anyways.”

“I’ll knock you out again.”

Stiles’ mouth pulled down. “If it gives us a tiny chance of surviving this don’t you want to take it? I know how the Argents think.”

“Because you’re one of them.” Derek pulled the key out of his pocket. He grabbed Stiles’ arm and undid one of the cuffs.

Stiles looked down in confusion. “What?”

Pulling him over to one of the beds, Derek pushed him down on it and looped the handcuff around a bar of the headboard.

Stiles’ face too close to his own as he locked the cuff around Stiles’ wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. His eyes filling with tears. “You don’t know how much I mean that.”

Derek jerked back, grabbing his bag and slamming the bathroom door behind him. He switched on the shower. The bathroom light casted a yellow hue on everything. His skin shallow and sickly in the mirror. 

Laura was supposed to call at seven. Let him know how things were going in Beacon Hills. But the call never came. He waited by the phone for two hours, just staring at it on the table. An ache sinking into his chest. He could feel it. Already knew what'd happened.

At nine p.m. he gave her a call instead. With the tiniest bit of hope.

“Hello Derek.” The voice made the bile rise up in his throat. “Another Hale down, two more to go.”

Derek hung up and threw his phone at the wall. The pieces flying everywhere. Stumbling towards the bathroom, his hands shook as he turned on the light. His heart raced to the point he thought it was going to burst. He stood in front of the mirror. The ceramic sink cracked under his grip as he prepared himself to see what Kate had done.

Opening his eyes, they were red.

Letting out a growl, he punched the mirror and it shattered beneath his fist. But his red eyes were still there in the reflection of the broken pieces, staring back at him.

Now, ten years later, he stared at himself in the motel mirror. Not much had changed after all. This was for Laura. And for Cora, if she was still alive.

In the shower, Derek sank to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He stared out at the dirty shower curtain in front of him. More hallow than he’d ever been.

“Do I get a shower?” Stiles asked as he came out of the bathroom. His face was wet, as if he’d been crying, his eyes red-rimmed.

“No.” Derek laid on top of the other bed. He shut off the bedside lamp cloaking the room in darkness.

“I feel so dirty,” Stiles whined.

“I don’t care.”

He couldn’t sleep. Still wound up from the day’s events. Last night Stiles ran his hands all over Derek’s body, they rolled around in the sheets and kissed for a long time, Stiles traced patterns against his skin as they talked. He fell asleep with Stiles' head on his chest, the happiest he’d been in sixteen years.

Tonight they were strangers again. On lumpy motel mattresses. Driving to their certain death.

“The first time I saw a werewolf I was thirteen.” Stiles started speaking. “Which always sounds older than you actually are at thirteen. I didn’t believe them when they talked about it over dinners. Thought they were just making up stories –”

“Shut up.” He didn’t care about Stiles’ sob story. He just wanted to be unconscious.

Stiles ignored him. “He was feral. At least that’s what I was told. Shifted and trying to rip apart the four hunters holding him. While we stood there, Gerard told me that a werewolf just like the one in front of us, was responsible for my dad’s death. I had no reason to believe otherwise. They let the werewolf go and he ran at me, his claws almost getting me when Gerard shot him. Clean through the head.” He took a shuddery breath. “At that point in my life, I’d watched my mom fade away in a hospital bed, I was there the moment she took her last breath. I’d seen my father in his casket, his skin all waxy and his fingernails already turning black. But nothing prepared me for that moment.”

Derek imagined thirteen-year-old Stiles from the photos, with his round baby cheeks and shaved head, standing in front of a feral werewolf. Having just lost his parents and taken in by psychotic mass murderers.

“The werewolf scared me. Don’t get me wrong, I think even thirteen-year-old you would’ve pissed yourself if you’d been there. But that’s not what stuck in my mind. For years, what Gerard did... _that’s_ what replayed in my head every night.” There was a rustling noise as Stiles shifted on the bed. “I couldn’t believe that someone could do that and have no remorse at all. That was the moment I stopped trusting him.”

“You still killed all those people.”

“Yeah.” Stiles’ voice was full of shame. “I did, told myself it was okay because they deserved it, they were killing others, but in the end, that doesn’t make it right.” He cleared his throat. “Your uncle, Peter... he was the first one I killed.”

Derek sucked in a breath.

“He woke up from his coma and went crazy, he was on a killing rampage... I had just turned eighteen and I let him get the better of me.” Stiles’ voice trembled. “In that moment, I had a choice to survive or die, and I chose survival over letting a homicidal maniac live.” Stiles looked over at Derek, his face lit up yellow from the streetlights outside the room. “I didn’t know him before the fire but the man I killed wasn’t the uncle you knew.”

At the time, Derek hadn’t even known Peter had come out of his coma. He was told about Peter's death by Boyd, who'd heard that it was a young hunter named Mieczysław and that he was the son of the man Laura killed. 

“And Deucalion? What did he do to deserve death?”

“He was taking over packs all over the state. Wanting to make an alpha pack and he didn’t care who stood in his way. Betas, omegas, alphas, humans. Didn’t matter to him it was all the same.”

“How'd you get to him?”

Stiles was quiet for a while. “People don’t expect the talkative, clumsy kid to be a hunter.”

“You did to him what you did to me?”

“No... not at all. I just used it to gain access to his place. Took him out as soon as I got the chance... with you, the moment I met you I realized things weren’t what I was told.” Stiles shrugged. “You seemed sad, but not angry... not revengeful or bloodthirsty. And at some point, I realized I was fucked. Couldn’t tell you who I really was. Couldn’t tell you about the search for Cora without revealing the truth. I was scrambling for a plan. A way you didn’t get hurt, that I could save your sister and Scott... put a stop to the Argents. Which is why I haven’t escaped, because trust me I could’ve easily escaped. I’m going down with you tomorrow.”

Derek didn’t even know what to say to that.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness or for you to even trust me. I’m just asking for you to listen to me. Work with me and Allison and Scott... I just want you to survive, that’s all I want,” Stiles said. “What do you have to lose?”

Not much.

“I’m not undoing the handcuffs.”

“That’s fine, can you at least cover me with the blankets? The AC is fucking freezing.”

Derek turned on the lamp and got up. He stood over Stiles.

The angry red line of his scar peeking out from where his shirt had ridden up.

“Scott gave you that?” Derek motioned to the scar.

Stiles looked down at it. “Yeah. First full moon, Allison had to stitch me up.”

“And you don’t think he’s a monster for what he did?”

Stiles frowned. “Of course not. He beat himself up for weeks. I mean he probably still feels guilty. He’s my brother, for all intents and purposes, werewolf or not.”

Those weren’t the words of a cold-hearted hunter. They were words of a confused kid who had been raised by killers after losing both his parents. The fear coming off of Stiles was unmistakable. All this to save his best friend.

Derek pulled back the covers on Stiles’ bed, Stiles shimmied underneath and Derek covered him.

“Thanks.”

Derek sat down on the edge of Stiles’ bed, the man watching him curiously. “What’s your plan?”


	15. Chapter 15

“Can I have twenty minutes without the handcuffs?” Stiles asked.

Derek’s eyes burned from lack of sleep. “No.”

“Dude, just _twenty_ minutes. Let me function like a normal human being. The bathroom doesn’t even have a window!”

Derek sighed. “You have ten.” He took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs.

Stiles rifled through his duffel bag. “Did you grab my toothbrush?”

“Your ten minutes are counting down,” Derek said.

Stiles grabbed the toothpaste Derek brought and ran into the bathroom. The door shut and Derek didn’t listen in, he could at least give Stiles a bit of privacy for ten minutes.

He looked out the window, overcast, dark skies. They only had seven hours back to Beacon Hills. Every part of him was saying not to trust Stiles’ plan. It was stupid and risky, but just a little less than Derek’s. Which was charge full force into the hunters alone.

At least in this plan he had another person. If Stiles held up his end. He could turn on Derek, shoot him in front of the Argents, earn his way back in. Derek knew that was a very real possibility.

“You have two minutes and then I’m breaking down the door,” Derek said.

“Yeah okay, sourwolf,” Stiles muttered.

Derek rubbed his beard and tried not to think about what was coming. If he started thinking about the situation they were in, he’d start replaying the past three weeks in his mind. Looking for the obvious warning signs he missed. He’d start to feel empathy for Stiles and his situation. Which made him angry and then he’d start to spiral, his heart would race. His wolf would push against his control –

The door opened and Stiles gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

Derek put the handcuffs back on Stiles and packed their bags.

Stiles was quiet during the car ride, he chain-smoked cigarettes and this time Derek didn’t stop him. The rain started an hour in, hitting the windshield with such intensity Derek was having trouble seeing.

“Maybe we should pull over... wait out the storm,” Stiles said.

Derek didn’t want to, but Stiles was right, at this rate they’d get in an accident before they even got to the border of California. He pulled into a truck stop and ran in to get them food. They’d need their strength to fight. If it got to that point. Stiles shoved the fries in his mouth aggressively.

The storm raged on outside the car. An hour passed. And then another. Their plan was going to have to adapt.

“Have you ever turned someone?” Stiles asked absently. His feet up on the dashboard, he had to lift both of his hands up to take a drag of the cigarette.

Derek sighed and leaned against the driver’s side window. “Once. She was dying... her husband begged me.” He didn’t know why he answered. Even now Stiles was able to draw the information out of him.

Stiles was looking at him with interest.

“The bite is a gift. That’s what I’ve always been told... I wouldn’t change my decision, it saved her life.”

“Was it Erica?”

Of course, he guessed it. Probably knew it before he even came to town. Derek couldn’t give him a new target in case Stiles survived this.

“No.”

“That’s a lie,” Stiles said. “Boyd too. Figured it out the second I met them, I’m young, not stupid.”

“Are you going to go after them next?”

“What? No.” Stiles sat up and threw his cigarette out the window. “Derek, I know you don’t believe this but I’m not like Gerard or Kate... I’ve only killed people that were hurting others.”

He turned in the seat and reached out for Derek but then froze, like he thought better of it, and let his hands drop down to the console between them.

“We have a code, I’m sure you know it, _we hunt those who hunt us_... but I didn’t like that code, it blurred the lines too easily. Allison came up with a new one, one that the two of us started to follow. One she was trying to get the Argents to follow. _We protect those who cannot protect themselves_.” 

“Then why’d you come to use me as bait to get to Kate?”

“That’s where we fucked up. We were dead set on helping Scott we couldn’t see any other way but taking out the people who threatened him the most. That’s why we killed the Calaveras.” Stiles sat back against the door, lifting his leg onto the seat. “Somehow, they knew about Scott before the Argents. They came for him.”

He shouldn’t let Stiles fill his head with all this.

“Then I found out who really killed my father. That the same person who killed him was a threat to my best friend, the only true family I had left. So yeah, I thought the mighty Hale alpha could protect himself. The things I’ve heard about you, not just from the Argents but other hunters, other _werewolves_ , who were frightened just by your name, you were so well known by everyone... I figured it must’ve all been true.” He laughed bitterly. “Obviously not. Instead I found a man who owns a dog and chickens... who talks to horses like they can understand him and helps old people and has _reusable produce bags_.”

Derek scowled. It almost sounded like an insult.

“And we just clicked together so easily, like I was meant to get in that accident and find out the truth.”

“We got along because you covered up who you were.”

“Maybe my real name. But even that, Stiles is more who I am, only people who really know me call me Stiles.” He looked down in shame. “What I felt when I was with you made happiness seem possible for the first time in twelve years. But even if I didn’t have those feelings, I couldn’t have followed through with the plan because you’re not what they said you were...” He looked up through his eyelashes and Derek’s resolve started to crumble. “You’re good.”

Derek turned on the car.

“What are you doing? It’s still pouring out.”

“I’d rather die trying to get to Beacon Hills than listen to you.”

Stiles’ face fell and he turned in his seat, pulling the seatbelt across himself as best as he could with cuffed wrists.

“This is where we’re meeting him?” Derek asked. Looking around the empty parking lot. Abandoned buildings were the only thing around for quite a few miles. The rough part of town, a place where nobody would be at this time of night.

Stiles loaded the magazine of his pistol. “Yeah.” He clicked it in place and looked up at Derek. “You know you’re going to have to take these handcuffs off me.”

Derek wondered, not for the first time, why the hell he was going along with this plan. Taking the handcuffs off Stiles’ wrists, he threw them in the trunk.

The plan was to meet Chris, separately from Gerard. Stiles had told him that Chris had just learned about the Argents’ involvement in the Hale fire and that he tried to stick to the code more closely than the others. According to Stiles, Chris wasn’t happy with his father or sister. Derek didn’t believe it. But Chris had been willing to meet. Said he’d give over Kate’s location in return for Derek. 

He was pretty sure Stiles was planning on killing Chris. How else would they get away? For some reason Derek cared. Not about Chris, but about Stiles taking another life. Knowing what it'd do to him.

“They’re probably already here,” Derek said. Nodding to the buildings.

“Can you hear them?”

Derek pushed his hearing to the maximum distance. He shook his head. “No... nothing.”

“There ya go.” Stiles lifted his hand up. “Sorry,” Stiles said, knocking Derek across the temple with the butt of the gun.

Derek’s world went black before he even hit the ground.

“We had a deal.” Stiles’ voice woke him. “Kate’s location for the Hale alpha... I followed through on my part.”

He kept his eyes closed. Using his apparent unconsciousness to his advantage.

“You’ve been missing for two months, I’m not going to just hand Kate over,” a man said. Presumably Chris Argent.

“Then you don’t get Derek Hale,” Stiles said.

“He’s lying on the ground in front of me, I think we already have him,” Chris said.

“He’s an alpha. A Hale,” Stiles said.

“And you’re outnumbered.”

“You sure?” Stiles’ voice got cocky.

The whistle of an arrow landed with the tearing of flesh. A second arrow flew through the air as Derek pulled himself up, lunging for Chris.

He twisted Chris’ wrist. The gun dropping out of his hand. Derek wrenched Chris’ arm behind him. The other two hunters passed out on the ground, small arrows in their legs, and a powerful sedative working its way through their bodies.

“Chris, meet Derek,” Stiles said, he gestured wildly between the two men standing in front of him. "He's got quite the strength, hasn't he?"

Derek ground his teeth together. How Stiles could be joking around at a time like this was beyond him.

“Stiles!” The voice echoed off the buildings nearby.

Stiles’ shoulders sagged as he spun around. The boy from Stiles’ photos – Scott – came rushing out of the shadows. Throwing their arms around each other, Stiles and Scott hugged in the middle of the parking lot. Derek stood with Chris still struggling in his arms watching the exchange.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Stiles said. His voice broke. “I’m sorry it took me this long to come back.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Scott said, his voice almost smug. “Let’s just say we went through _a lot_ of condoms.”

Allison came out of the shadows of the building, a small crossbow in her hands. Her dark hair bounced with her steps. “Scott!” she snapped.

Stiles pulled away from the hug. “That’s disgusting and way too much information," he said as he laughed anyways, giving Scott a gentle shove. He turned his attention to Allison as she got closer. “I’ve missed you.” Stiles pulled her in for a hug.

“You left me alone with Scott, _I missed you_ ,” she said.

“Stiles,” Derek said. This wasn’t the time for a heartfelt reunion.

The three of them turned to face Derek and Chris.

Scott stared at Derek. “That’s the alpha you guys talked about?” Scott whispered.

“He’s literally standing right there, he can hear you, stopping being so weird.” Stiles brushed his hand through his greasy hair. Walking back over. “Alright Chris, we’re going to try this again. Where’s Kate?”

“You know I’m not going to tell you,” Chris said.

“I know you’re not going to crack under physical torture,” Stiles said. “Maybe blackmail will work instead… I have all the warehouse files backed up, didn’t think I’d leave without a little assurance, did you? Enough to put you and Gerard away for a long time.”

“You can't do that without implicating yourself," Chris said. "And you're younger, a life sentence for you will be a lot longer than a life sentence for me."

Stiles’ jaw clenched.

“That’s right,” Chris said.

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Stiles said. “I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if I go to jail or end up dead, fuck, as long as they get what’s coming for them, I’ll gladly take what’s coming for me.”

“Stiles,” Scott said. “This isn’t worth dying for.”

“Think about your dad, Stiles,” Chris said. “He wouldn’t want this for you.”

“Don’t you fucking say anything about my dad,” Stiles said.

“Shoot Derek with one of those arrows and the three of you can go," Chris said. "We won’t look for you, Scott will be safe, you have my word.”

Stiles flicked his gaze over Chris’ shoulder. Staring at Derek with his brows furrowed, gnawing at his bottom lip.

Derek thought for a second he might take the deal. Derek probably would. Save the people he loved, protect himself, it was basic instinct to want that.

“Leave the Hale alpha with me and we’re even,” Chris said.

“Stiles, maybe we should -” Allison started to say.

Stiles turned towards her. “No,” he shouted. “I’m not leaving Derek and I’m not letting Kate get away with this.”

“You can’t go on a warpath just because she killed your dad,” Allison said.

“Saving Cora, not letting Derek die, that’s not a warpath, that’s being a decent fucking human,” Stiles said. He stepped closer to Allison, getting in her face. “Listen, I know you think of Chris as a father or whatever, but he’s not. Your father was killed by Gerard, along with your mother. So why are you still protecting him?”

Allison didn’t back down. She raised her chin, biting out her words. “Chris had nothing to do with any of that,” she said, her eyes flashed with anger.

“He still trained us to be like this!” Stiles raised the gun up, shaking it in front of her face. “He watched as they beat us bloody, he was the one that told us it’d make us stronger. He tied us to the chairs and left us in the burnt down Hale house, while there was a fucking alpha out in the woods. He let them do everything they’ve done to us. He was our guardian, he was supposed to protect us. Why can’t you remember that?”

With Stiles’ words, Derek wrenched Chris’ arm up higher, dangerously close to popping it out of its socket.

Guilt rolled off Chris in one big wave. “Stiles, Allison, I did what I had to do to protect you,” Chris said. “To protect you from people like Derek.”

Stiles’ fingers clenched around the pistol in his hands. He turned back to Chris, his mouth pushed into a line. “ _You’re_ the monster that you made Derek out to be,” he shouted before looking back at Allison and Scott. “It doesn’t matter whether you let yourself see it or not, Allison, he’s just as bad as them.”

“Are you going to hurt him? You can’t hurt him, this isn’t right,” Scott said.

“Shut up Scott,” Stiles groaned. “You have no idea what we’re up against.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Allison said, she pushed Stiles’ chest. “You're out of control, you need to take a step back and realize who you are.”

“I’m a hunter,” Stiles said. “And I’m going to do what you’re too weak to do.”

“Weak?” Allison shouted. “Are you kidding –”

The argument faded to the background. Chris threw his head back. With a loud crack, Derek’s nose broke. His eyes watering as he tried to keep a hold on Chris’ arms. The seasoned hunter kicked Derek’s knee. Popping the kneecap from the socket and Derek let go.

The world around him turned red with his shift. His body healed itself. The smell of iron still in his nose even as the pain went away.

Chris scrambled for his gun on the ground. Derek tackled him, his claws digging into the man’s flesh. Wet pavement soaked his clothes as they fell. Underneath Derek, Chris rolled onto his back. A glint of silver in his hand.

Derek moved with a split second to spare. The knife swung through the air, right where Derek’s throat had just been.

An arrow hit Chris’ shoulder and fear rushed through his eyes as he passed out. Allison stood near with the crossbow trained on Chris.

He stood back up, wiping the blood from his face.

“Great,” Stiles shouted. He rubbed his hand over his head. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“You need to calm down,” Allison said.

Stiles stood next to Derek and looked down at Chris. “Did you have to shoot him?”

“Chris is more highly trained than anyone here,” Allison said.

“Guys, look at this,” Scott said. He picked up a keycard that had fallen off of Chris in the struggle. “It’s for Argent’s Arms International.”

Allison looked at Stiles. “Kate has an office there.”

“That’ll literally be walking into the lion’s den,” Stiles said.

Allison smirked. “Not if we do it smart.” 

* * *

“Why does this feel like a horrible idea that’s going to get us all killed?” Scott asked.

“Because it probably will,” Stiles said. He didn’t like the plan. Didn’t want to have to come back to the warehouse where they’d been forced to do so many things he didn’t want to think about ever again. All of it flooding back just sitting in the darkness at the edge of the parking lot.

Allison shifted to look at Stiles and Derek in the backseat. “Okay, you and Derek will take out the main power. While they’re scrambling to get the back-up generator going, Scott and I will go in through the basement window and make our way towards the office.”

“What if you get caught?” Stiles asked.

“I used to sneak out of the house every night to visit Scott, I’m not going to get caught,” Allison said. “The cameras get knocked out with the main power, they won’t be able to see anything.”

“I don’t want to just sit outside waiting for you,” Stiles said.

“You won’t be, you’re our lookout for if Gerard comes.”

“What about Chris?” Scott asked.

“We’ll just leave him for now,” Allison said.

Stiles glanced into the back of the SUV, Chris still knocked out from the arrow, his hands in the cuffs Derek had used on Stiles.

The four of them got out of the vehicle, him and Derek ran into the edge of the forest, following it around until they found the electrical pole. What he wouldn’t give to be asleep in the cabin right now with Derek curled around him in bed. He missed Derek’s warmth. Missed his fond smile and his soft laughter.

Stiles pulled back the bowstring and aimed for the transformer. He let it go and the arrow flew through the air, landing in the forest behind the pole with a burst of light and sparks.

“You _missed_?” Derek said.

“The bow is Allison’s weapon,” Stiles said. He pulled another arrow back. “The gun is mine.”

“You suddenly can’t aim?”

“I have a fucking concussion thanks to you,” Stiles said. “I can barely see straight.” He took a deep breath and remembered what he’d been taught. This time when he let go, the arrow hit the transformer with a bang. The building going dark. Scott and Allison made a run for it and Stiles tugged on Derek’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They ran back to the SUV and Stiles got in the driver’s seat, ready to make a quick getaway if needed. They watched Scott and Allison punch a window out and lay down Scott’s sweater, crawling into the basement.

“What is this place?” Derek asked.

“Argent’s Arms International... a warehouse where they store weapons, train hunters, and keep their offices,” Stiles said. He beat his fist against his knee. This was all they needed, just one lucky break.

Up on the second floor, the emergency lights kicked in and a familiar figure appeared in an office window.

“Oh fuck,” Stiles said. “He’s already here.”

“Who is?”

“I should’ve realized. Fucking Chris,” Stiles said. He jumped out of the SUV, running towards the building's front doors.

“What the hell are you doing?” Derek shouted, grabbing his arm.

Stiles spun around. “Shut up, you want to get caught?” he hissed, right in Derek’s face. “Allison and Scott just entered a building with Gerard Argent, I’m going in there as a distraction. Get back in the car, be ready to drive.”

“You’re not going in there alone.”

“Yeah, I am,” Stiles said. “This was my crusade... I’m not letting them get killed.”

“You’re going to be a distraction?” Derek’s voice was low, angry. “What good is it if you get caught?”

He ripped his arm out of Derek’s grasp. “They can get Kate’s location, you guys can find her, find your sister... finally finish this.”

“You're not doing this on your own,” Derek said, his voice softening.

Stiles didn’t have time for this. “Whatever.”

They sprinted across the parking lot and Stiles banged on the metal front doors. His keycard had definitely been locked out. Pulling his pistol from its holster as the doors opened slowly. Two hunters stood in the doorway, machine guns strapped to their chest.

“Hey guys,” Stiles said. “Just got the Hale alpha with me, that okay?”

The hunters looked at each other before looking behind him, at Derek.

“What’d you say?” the one hunter said.

Stiles hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to Derek. “The Hale alpha, how many hits to the head have you taken?”

The hunter reached for his gun and Stiles pressed the pistol to the man’s forehead. While Derek knocked out the second one.

“Does Gerard know we’re here?” Stiles asked.

The hunter’s face stayed passive.

“You know who I am,” Stiles said. “Just answer the question.”

The hunter’s finger twitched, Stiles looked down, it was pressed against the button of the radio. He was listening.

“I think I have something you want,” Stiles said, he looked back up at the hunter. "Take your finger off the button."

The hunter let it go.

The radio crackled. “The prodigal son returns.” Gerard’s voice gravel against his ears.

Stiles smirked at Derek in a _I told you so_ kind of way. Gerard couldn’t resist a challenge. His greatest weakness was thinking he was the smartest person in the room.

Stiles grabbed the radio with his free hand, pulling it off the hunter’s belt. “You can have Derek Hale and Chris, _if_ you give me Kate’s location.” He let go of the button and waited for a response, hoping to just stall some time, give a distraction while Allison and Scott were just a couple doors down from the old man.

“You see, Mieczysław, you may be professionally trained and highly-skilled... but where do you think you get that from?” Gerard said. “You’re predictable.”

Oh _fuck_ , he dropped the radio. He knocked out the hunter with a precise hit to the head, grabbing the keycard.

“What is it?” Derek asked.

Scanning the keycard, the locks clicked open, he ran through the solid metal doors. Derek on his heels.

The front foyer of the warehouse was only lit up with the yellow emergency lights, but there was Scott in the middle of the room with a hunter behind him, pointing a gun at his head. Another hunter held Allison off to the side. She struggled in his hold, her screams muffled against his gloved hand.

Gerard stepped out of a side room. In his hands was the sword Stiles watched him kill dozens of people with.

“Did you really think that I wouldn’t know about Allison and Scott?” Gerard said. He motioned with his head towards Derek.

The hunter Derek had knocked out was awake, pressing his machine gun to the back of Derek’s head.

“Let them go,” Stiles said. Already knowing it was futile, Gerard liked to play sick games.

“You can save your friends... but you have a choice to make, raise your gun and shoot Derek Hale,” Gerard said. “Or your best friend gets the bullet instead.”

There it was. The ultimatum he knew was coming. Gerard must’ve known what Derek had become to him. No matter what they’d all end up dead. Whether Stiles shot Derek or not. The instant Derek’s body was on the ground, the three of them would be soon to follow.

Allison whimpered, tears running down her face as she watched Gerard walk into the middle of the group.

“I’m not doing that,” Stiles said.

“Your choice.” Gerard nodded.

The hunter behind Scott pulled the trigger.

A broken shout fell from Scott’s mouth as he dropped to his hands and knees, Allison screaming. Blood started to drip onto the tiles from Scott’s leg. Black in the dim lighting.

“Scott!” Stiles took a step forward.

Gerard raised the sword up to his chest, stopping any further movements.

“It’s okay, it’s okay –” Scott said, looking up at him. “Stiles, don’t shoot him, you can’t kill him.” His best friend still managed to be the better person, willing to die to keep Derek alive, but Scott didn’t know Gerard, didn’t know what he was capable of doing.

“I can’t let them kill you,” Stiles said.

“Next one goes in his head,” Gerard said. Smiling like the sick bastard he was.

Allison screamed louder, her body pulling and pushing against the hold of the hunter who was twice her size. Her eyes wide with fear, staring at Stiles, pleading for him not to choose Derek over Scott.

“You’re an Argent,” Gerard said. “We hunt Hales, show your loyalty.”

Those words made Stiles’ blood boil. He was his parents’ son. Normal, loving people who would’ve never written Chris Argent into their wills if they knew this was going to happen.

“I’m not an Argent.” But Stiles raised the gun up towards Derek anyways, cocking it to buy himself some time. His hands shaking violently.

Gerard grinned. “Oh, but you shoot like one.” 

“You’re right,” Stiles said. With tears shining in his eyes, his lips quivered as he looked over at Derek. Knowing things would never be the same after this. “I do,” he said to himself.

Derek’s body lost its tension. His furrowed brows settling into defeat.

Stiles’ finger rested against the trigger. There was the feeling of a head rush and tightness in his chest he got whenever he was about to kill someone.

Derek closed his eyes. It broke Stiles’ heart.

He pulled the trigger. Four shots in rapid succession with no time for hesitation as he spun around. The clash of a sword against the ground echoed through the warehouse.

Gerard groaned, holding his hands to his stomach. The hunters who had the other three held hostage were on the ground with blood pooling from their heads. He lowered his gun as Scott stared in horror at what’d just happened. How easily his best friend had killed.

Allison scrambled over to Scott, crouching down next to him.

Without looking at Derek - he couldn’t stand to see his horrified expression - Stiles grabbed Gerard by the front of his shirt. The old man’s expensive dress shirt soaked with blood.

Stiles was done with trying to keep people alive. Killing whoever it took to get to Kate because it didn’t matter anymore. He was already a killer. Had been for a long time. “You’re going to tell me where I can find Kate, or I’m going to kill you.”

“Stiles, stop. You can’t kill everyone in sight!” Scott shouted.

“Why not? He’s done it for years.”

Gerard gave him a wicked smile, no human left in his eyes. “Survival of the fittest.”

“If that was true you would’ve been dead years ago, you fucking coward.” He swung his leg around and kicked the back of Gerard’s knee, the man falling to his knees with a grunt. “I want Kate’s location,” he said. Pressing the gun to Gerard’s temple.

“ _Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave_.” Gerard spoke slow, dramatically.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Do you ever get tired of being a pretentious douchebag?” He pressed the gun harder against Gerard’s head. “Give me Kate’s location or I swear to god, I will pull this trigger.” He got more desperate, thinking they’ve come all this way to get nothing. Argents didn’t break easily. “I’ve been taught by the best remember? No hesitation, no remorse.”

Gerard looked up at him, a snarl on his lips but true fear in his eyes.

“You don’t know,” Stiles said. His shoulders drooped with the realization. “You don’t even know where she is.”

Blood started to drip from Gerard’s mouth. The bullet must’ve damaged his stomach, at this rate he didn’t have long to live. “I know that she hasn’t betrayed us. She’s stayed true to who we are, what we’re meant to be, we –”

“Shut up!” Stiles shouted. “I hate your fucking monologues. We get it, you’re the powerful werewolf hunter who hides behind the kids you’ve trained to kill. Pathetic. And now _entirely useless_.”

“Don’t!” Scott shouted.

Stiles faltered, finger on the trigger, looking over at Scott slouched with Allison on the ground.

And then finally back at Derek. The man stood there watching the scene in front of him with an undistinguishable look on his face. There was no way they could come back from this, Stiles couldn’t come back from what'd just happened, so he had to move forward. Get Derek’s sister out. Alive. That was the only way he could ever make this up to Derek.

Gerard moved for the sword and Allison shot the crossbow. The arrow hitting Gerard’s leg.

With a pathetic yelp, Gerard passed out.

“We’ll deal with him after,” Allison said. “Right now, we have to find Kate.”

Scott tore open his pants above the bullet hole.

“How are we going to do that?” Stiles put his gun back in his hip holster and moved over to Scott. “Scott’s got a fucking wolfsbane bullet in his leg.” He squatted in front of his best friend who was sucking in big gulps of air.

“We came here to look at her office,” Allison said. She held out Chris’ keycard. “You and Derek go, I’ll get the bullet out of Scott.”

Stiles grabbed the card and handed his lighter to her. They’d need it to kill the wolfsbane in Scott’s blood.

“I guess it’s our best shot,” Stiles said. He put his hand on the back of Scott’s neck. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Barely hurts,” Scott said, his voice tight with pain.

Stiles smiled sadly. “I swear to god I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

Scott grabbed his wrist. “Stiles, don’t lose yourself in this.”

“This has been me for a long time now Scott, you just didn’t know about it.” Stiles stood up while wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll text if we find anything.”

Allison nodded, still crouched next to Scott. “Okay.”

Stiles put his hand on her shoulder. “Be safe.”

She squeezed his hand. “You too.” Eyeing Derek as if he was the threat.

* * * 

Derek felt numb as they ran through the warehouse. It was all too much to take in.

A sweet, innocent man turning out to be a hunter. His sister possibly still being alive after sixteen years. All the hurt and pain Stiles obviously felt towards the Argents and what they’d done. Stiles killing people. Emotionlessly, easily.

Stiles swiped the card, the door buzzed and the locked clicked. He swung open the door and they climbed the stairs up to the second floor where the offices were.

“Where is everyone?” Derek asked. It set him on edge, like there were people lurking in the shadows. But when he listened, he didn’t hear any heartbeats.

“They don’t keep this place heavily guarded at night. Waste of money,” Stiles said. “Just video surveillance and a couple guards throughout the building, Gerard was just cocky enough to underestimate us.” He stopped at a closed door. “This is hers but each office is programmed to its own keycard and we don’t have Kate’s.”

Derek pushed him to the side. The wood frame splintering as he kicked open the door.

Arousal hit his nose and he glared at Stiles.

“It’s not voluntary,” Stiles said softly. Pushing past Derek into the room. He flicked on a light and looked around. “What the fuck.”

Information about Derek’s family covered the walls. Along with pictures of them there were pictures of the house before and after the fire. Blueprints of the house, maps of the property, newspaper clippings, scribbles on whiteboards. All of it trying to figure out where Derek went and who the missing Hale was.

“She’s hit the fucking fan of crazy town.” Stiles stepped forward. “Hunted you for sixteen years and I found you in less than two months.”

Derek ignored that comment and started looking through the papers on the desk. A whole lot of nothing. Just general information about supernatural creatures other than werewolves. Order forms for weapons and wolfsbane.

“Derek.” Stiles was suddenly in his personal space, hovering next to him.

He looked up from the desk, Stiles’ eyes wide and earnest.

“I wasn’t going to kill you.” Stiles bit his lip.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me... that you know that.” Stiles’ long fingers wrapped around Derek’s arm.

Derek jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry.” Stiles turned back to the wall covered in information.

“How could you kill those people?” Derek didn’t care about the hunters, good riddance. What bothered him was the apparent lack of guilt. Stiles said he cared, that he killed but still had remorse, what he’d just done wasn’t that.

“They were going to kill all of us, wouldn’t matter if I shot you or not.” He didn’t look at Derek. His head dropped and his shoulders shook with a sob. Lonely, crushing despair rolled off him bringing tears to Derek’s own eyes.

Maybe Derek was wrong. There was remorse. Underneath the hard outer shell of the hunter.

Stiles spun around. “I’m a killer and I can’t take it back. So, I’m going to protect Scott because he’s good and pure, he’s done nothing to deserve this life. Just like you didn’t deserve what happened to your family –” Stiles sniffed and he sucked in a breath, his eyebrows springing up with a thought – “The Hale house.” Stiles wiped his face and turned back to the wall.

“It’s been torn down by the county, but what if there’s a part that’s still left? A year ago, Kate mentioned making a bunker. Only a few specific people would know, it’d be just in case things turned bad...” Stiles said. “What if she did that? Built a bunker and has been hiding out?”

“We had a root cellar,” Derek said. “Below the house, separate from the basement.”

“Kate’s been in Beacon Hills this whole fucking time.”

They rushed down the stairs, towards the front foyer.

Stiles slid to a stop.

Derek turned around. “Stiles, we have to go.”

Stiles stood staring at the doors of a room. “I’m going to burn down the warehouse,” he said.

“What?”

Stiles motioned to the doors. “That’s where all the weapons are kept. We set off the right one, it all goes... all their weapons, all the information they’ve collected, their central database. It’s all fucking gone.”

“That’s insane let’s go,” Derek said.

“They’ll just keep coming after you if we don’t do something to stop it,” Stiles said. He used Chris’ keycard and the doors buzzed open.

They walked in the room together.

“Alright, they probably have a grenade or something around here somewhere.” He walked through the aisles.

Derek couldn’t help the eye roll. “Do you know anything about grenades?”

“You pull the thing and throw it... not rocket science.” Stiles ran his hand over a shelf. “G for grenades.”

Shelves of boxed guns, ammunition, different types of arrows and bows. All neatly labeled and organized. The smell of wolfsbane and mountain ash made Derek’s head spin – a sharp bitterness with a hint of sweetness.

“Found them.”

Derek looked across the room, Stiles stood in front of a box. He smiled through the shelves.

“Grenades don’t explode with a big fire,” Derek said.

“What?”

“It’s the shrapnel that kills people.”

“So all those movies?” Stiles asked.

“Not accurate.”

“Fuck.”

“Let’s just go, call the cops on this, I don’t think half these weapons are legal,” Derek said. This isn’t what he came for.

Stiles walked back towards Derek. “The Argents own the cops in this town. Perks of killing the sheriff, you can send in your own guy.” Stiles stopped. Looking up at Derek, a smile spreading slowly over his face. “Oh, I’ve got it.” He turned on his heel. “And we’re gonna need that grenade.”

Together, they stood in front of the computer server room. There weren’t a lot of stacks, not for a smaller operation like the Argent’s, but Stiles said that a lot of information was kept on them. Information used against supernaturals. Taking out the servers would set them behind, leave them scrambling. And it’d send a message.

Which is what Stiles had switched to wanting, after he realized he couldn’t literally burn down the entire building. Now he was sending a message with a grenade in his hand.

“So, I just hold this thing down, pull the pin, throw, and duck behind the wall,” Stiles said, looking uneasily at the weapon in his hand.

While Stiles appeared to have perfect aim with a gun, Derek was less confident about his skills to throw a grenade without injuring anyone.

“Give it to me,” Derek said, holding his hand out.

“What? No.”

“You have approximately four seconds to get behind the wall. Who do you think has a better chance of that?”

“You're not risking your life for this.”

Derek grabbed the grenade. “Go.” He pushed Stiles’ shoulder roughly.

Stiles hesitated but moved behind the wall. He covered his ears with his hands.

Derek didn’t take a second to think about how fucking stupid this all was. He held the safety lever down and pulled the pin. Underarm throwing it into the server room and running for cover. The walls shook with the loud bang. Derek’s head fuzzy from the vibrations.

Stiles grinned. “That was awesome!”

Derek ignored the fondness in his heart over Stiles’ excitement.

They waited for the smoke to clear before looking. A small flame on one of the servers, bits of metal and plastic strewn across the room.

“Time for you to go,” Stiles said.

“What?”

“This next part is riskier, I’m doing it alone.” Stiles picked up the plastic bin of gun powder.

“No way,” Derek said.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“No,” Derek said. Not knowing why he wasn’t taking the chance to leave while he could. “Allison and Scott have the location, right? They’ll find her if we don’t make it out.”

“Derek...”

“I’m more likely to survive this than you.” Derek walked away, heading back towards the stairs. “Let’s go, I’m sure more hunters are on their way.”

They opened the door to Chris’ office. As Stiles collected the bottle of scotch and a lighter, Derek threw books and papers onto the desk and on the floor. He grabbed the box of gun powder and poured half of it all over the office. It was supposed to go up in flames, Stiles said, spread it across the carpet, maybe the curtains if they got lucky. Should create a big enough fire to do damage.

“Okay, let’s set up the next one.” Stiles turned, he held a half bottle of scotch with a cleaning rag they’d found in a closet shoved in its opening.

They walked the short distance down the hall to Gerard’s office and Derek kicked it open.

It was the biggest office out of them all. On a shelf behind the cherry wood desk sat a row of glass boxes, containing objects that got more disturbing as Derek looked. A silver arrowhead, a set of alpha’s claws, teeth from a werewolf. In the middle was a single box. The skin peeled off from two werewolves and delicately pinned up. The triskelion tattoos on display as if they were in a fucking museum.

Derek almost lost control of his shift when he read the names. _Laura and Peter Hale_. 

Hunters were evil. They killed people with no regards to their lives. Hunted people down like they were animals. Killed innocents, humans, children. Made up excuses and explained away their behavior with lies. But this. Displaying their body parts in glass boxes? This was sicker than anything he could've imagined.

“Derek?” Stiles was right behind him.

He growled and shoved Stiles up against the shelf, his hand around the man’s throat. The glass boxes rattling with the force.

“You cut Peter’s tattoo off him?” Derek said.

Stiles’ eyes widened, he shook his head. “No – I swear, I didn’t know until I came in here months later.”

Derek tightened his hand. “You did this. You killed him.”

“I know.” Stiles wrapped his fingers around Derek’s wrist. “I know, but we don’t have time... if word gets to Kate she’ll be gone and you’ll never find Cora.”

“Don’t say her name,” Derek snarled.

But Stiles was right, he tried to rein in the anger, there wasn’t time. He let Stiles go and the younger man rubbed his throat.

“Gerard isn’t going to get away with this,” Stiles said, looking at the glass boxes. “I promise.”

They focused back on the task at hand. Under the window was an alcohol cart with three more bottles of alcohol.

“How many cloths do we have?” Stiles asked, picking up a bottle of expensive scotch.

“Three.”

“It’s meant to be.”

Stiles ripped the books off the shelves. Old looking ones that probably were actually worth a lot. Derek spread the rest of the gunpowder around the room before moving onto the papers from the desk.

He froze with a paper in his hand. “Look at this.”

Stiles walked over and leaned over Derek’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“A list of supernatural people in California.” Dozens of names a couple with a line through them. Ones that shared common last names. Derek didn't want to think about what that meant.

“The whole state?” Stiles took it.

“Yeah.”

Stiles folded it up and put it in his sweater pocket. “Someone’s gotta warn them.”

Finishing up, they moved outside into the hall. It was beyond stupid. But for some reason he was still there, standing beside Stiles who was holding an unlit Molotov cocktail.

Stiles’ hand shook has he raised the lighter to the rag. He paused, looking over at Derek, opening his mouth before snapping it shut again. Without saying anything, Stiles lit the rag on fire, watching it burn up towards the bottle.

“Throw it!” Derek shouted.

Stiles jolted, swinging his arm back and throwing it the short distance into Gerard’s office. The bottle shattered, a ball of fire exploding in the office, lighting all the gunpowder.

The heat burned Derek’s face from where they stood. The papers and books they’d piled in the middle of the room went up in flames. Laura's and Peter’s tattoos consumed. With the curtains catching fire, it might actually do more damage than Derek first thought.

Stiles gasped. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

Derek handed him the next bottle. “We gotta go.”

A loud pulsing noise went off as the smoke triggered the alarms. Derek’s eardrums felt like they were bursting.

Stiles moved towards Chris’ office and lit the rag. No hesitation in throwing the second bottle. Orange flames reminding Derek of watching his house – and family – burn.

Derek grabbed Stiles’ arm pulling him down the hall.

Stiles lit the third Molotov cocktail and threw it in Kate’s office. Without the gunpowder, it wasn’t as big as the others.

They got to a fourth room. _Victoria Argent_ , written on the door in gold font. Derek kicked the door open and Stiles lit the last bottle. Not staying to watch the offices burn, the heat grew as the fire spread along the carpet.

They got close to the stairway door. A force threw Derek forwards. His body slammed into Stiles, both of them landing on the ground.

A loud bang followed and Derek winced. The heat overwhelming. His skin felt like it was on fire. Stiles was collapsed on the ground, pinned under Derek's body.

Derek looked backwards. The explosion had pushed the fire closer. Way too close.

“What the hell was that.” Stiles groaned, his head rolling to the side.

Derek scrambled to his feet and picked Stiles up bridal style. Throwing the door open, he ran down the stairs, Stiles barely conscious in his arms.

The explosion had spread the fire to the first floor as the sprinklers went off. Useless compared to the size of the flames. Half of the building collapsed. The roar of the fire and smell of smoke clouded Derek's senses. The area they'd originally entered through was gone in a mess of rubble and fire.

“To your left,” Stiles said.

Derek ran in the opposite direction of where they came from.

Another explosion rocked the warehouse. He tripped, falling, Stiles tumbled across the floor. Derek pushed himself up as a third explosion went off.

“Derek! Just leave me,” Stiles shouted, he clawed at the ground, coughing. His heart a jackhammer in Derek’s head.

Derek ignored him and picked him back up, carrying on, the whole building dark with the blackout and smoke. Partially shifting, he could see the vague outlines of objects, glowing in red.

An exit sign glowed at the end of a long corridor. Running down the hall, another explosion rattled the walls on either side of them. They reached the doors, breaking through to the night air, a relief from the suffocating smoke inside.

“You can put me down,” Stiles said. He lowered Stiles’ legs.

Throwing Stiles’ arm around his shoulder and pulling him away from the burning building, Derek looked around for the other two. Stiles had sent them a message, told them to get out of the building. “Where are Scott and Allison?”

“Probably at the car.” Stiles leaned his head on Derek’s shoulder as they walked around the building.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, running over to the pair. He took over for Derek. “What the hell did you guys do?”

“Molotov cocktails...” Stiles said, wincing with pain. “It was _awesome_.”

“That caused an explosion?” Scott asked.

Stiles shook his head. “I don’t know what caused it, nothing we used should’ve done that.”

The windows of the warehouse exploded outwards. Shattering onto the pavement below.

“Guys, we have a bigger problem,” Allison said. She stood at the back of the SUV.

Derek rounded the vehicle with Stiles and Scott close behind.

The handcuffs they’d put on Chris Argent were lying in the trunk and the man was gone.

“Shit!” Stiles said. “Where’s Gerard?”

“Backseat.”

Derek couldn’t hear a heartbeat, so he was either dead or gone too.

Allison opened the door. The backseat also empty.

“What the fuck... you guys weren’t watching them?” Stiles shouted.

Scott helped Stiles up into the SUV. The red Stanford hoodie blackened in spots from the smoke. His hair fell flat against his forehead and he looked exhausted, leaning his head back against the seat.

“We were a little preoccupied by the explosions and the fact that you were still inside!” Allison said. She threw the crossbow in the trunk and shut the hatch. “We gotta get out of here before more hunters come.”

As Allison drove away, Derek watched Stiles stare back at the burning warehouse. He wondered how many hours Stiles had spent in that warehouse. Learning to kill his kind.

“We shouldn’t go to the preserve.” Scott turned in the seat. “Stiles is too injured.”

“I’m fine.” Stiles pushed himself up. “We’re going... as soon as Kate hears about this she’ll disappear and we’ll be back to square one.”

“What are you going to do her?” Scott asked, an edge in his voice.

Stiles looked out the window. “I’m not going to let her hurt you.”

“Is this still about me?” Scott asked. “Or is it about revenge?”

Stiles didn’t answer the question.

Allison turned onto the road leading towards Derek’s old house. Even after this long of being away he still knew the area.

“Should we even bother coming up with a plan?” Scott asked. “Because our last two didn’t work out so well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerard’s quote is from Henry VI Part 3: Act 2, Scene 2 by Shakespeare.


	16. Chapter 16

Arriving at the preserve, Stiles was the first one out of the vehicle. His emotions were all over the place even Derek could barely follow them.

In the front, Allison and Scott looked at each other.

"I've never seen him like this," Scott said.

Allison put her hand on Scott's arm. "You don't know what Kate's done, you can't understand."

Feeling like he was intruding on a private moment, Derek got out of the SUV and followed Stiles around back to the trunk.

Methodically, Stiles pulled open the back gate, lifting up the carpet and grabbing out a box of bullets. Reloading his pistol’s magazine. Allison came around the SUV and pulled out her bow and arrows from under the trunk. The ones meant to kill, not sedate.

“So it’s probably about a ten-minute walk from here?” Allison said.

“Yeah,” Derek said.

Stiles put the gun in the holster before pulling a piece of paper out of his sweater pocket. He held it out towards Derek.

With Allison and Scott’s eyes on them, Derek took the paper and unfolded it. A picture of Derek’s family on vacation before the fire.

“It was on Kate’s wall,” Stiles said. “Figured you might want it.” He turned to Allison and Scott. “Ready?”

Derek watched as the three of them walked away from the vehicle. Just when he thought Stiles couldn’t surprise him anymore, he did. At least this time it was a good surprise. Looking back down at the only photograph he now had of his family, he folded it and shoved it in his pocket, catching up with the other three.

They walked for around five minutes.

“Alright, this is where we split up,” Allison said. “We’ll take the ridge, you take the valley. Meet at the root cellar.”

Stiles gave them a tense smile. “Five minutes.”

They split up as Stiles unclipped his holster, grabbing the pistol. “Whatever happens,” Stiles whispered. “Get Cora and run for it.”

Derek didn’t respond. Couldn’t think of what would happen to Stiles if he did that.

After a couple minutes, they broke out of the trees, coming to the clearing where his house once stood. The last time he was there was the night of the fire. Hours after the final heartbeat stilled and the firefighters managed to put it out. The structure left behind was burnt beyond recognition. A blanket draped around his shoulders. A sheriff's - Stiles' father's - plea to get the Hale kids out of there, get them to somewhere their family's bodies weren't being dragged out.

“This is it,” Derek said.

The doors to the root cellar were unmarked. Hard to see in the dark. Stiles stood with his back to Derek, his gun pointed towards the woods.

“Hurry up,” Stiles said.

Derek pulled on the doors but they rattled against a lock on the inside. “We have a problem.”

Stiles looked back at him. “What?”

“The doors, they’re locked.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Yeah Stiles, thought it’d be a good time for a joke,” Derek said.

Stiles whipped around. “Stand back.”

He stepped away and Stiles aimed the gun at the handles, shooting twice. The loud bangs echoing off into the forest. The doors rattling with the force.

Derek pulled on the doors. The shots damaged the locks enough that he could break them open.

"Hurry up!" Stiles yelled at Allison and Scott as they appeared up on the ridge. Still too far away.

Derek had one foot on the stairs.

The zap of electricity warned him first, another heartbeat closing in, just as all his muscles seized up. He fell down the steps, landing on the dirt ground with a hard thud.

“Derek!” Stiles shouted, running in after him.

The hunter hit Stiles over the head, knocking him out.

The doors closed and Derek’s eyes tried to adjust to the dim lighting of the emergency backup lights. The root cellar still had the wooden shelves his mom had once used to store food. But now there was a new doorway.

The hunter grunted as he pulled Derek down the hall. The ceiling was short, the hunter’s head almost touching the top. But the bunker was made out of strong materials with concrete floors and florescent lights buzzing overhead. A couple metal doors on each side.

Derek kicked the man in the shin and rolled onto his stomach. Pushing himself up, he shifted – the cattle prod pressed against his back and the electricity dropped him to the ground for a second time. The hunter grabbed his ankles again. Continuing down the hallway, through a doorway.

The smell made Derek gag. Like rotting flesh and human waste. He leaned on his forearms to get a look of the room. A metal table with weapons. A bucket in the corner. Shelves with canned food and water bottles.

Kate stood above him. Looking almost the same as she did at twenty-two save for a few wrinkles creased in her face and the apparent lack of showering. “Heard you were back in town,” she said.

And at the opposite end of the small room, a young woman chained to the wall, shackles around her wrists forcing her to stand. Her hair matted and greasy. Face smeared with crusted blood and dirt. Clothes ruined. But she managed to lift her head, despair melting into recognition at the sight of Derek.

Her eyes were the same as the ten-year-old girl he had known. He almost cried of relief.

“I’m glad that I get to be here,” Kate said. “For this little family reunion.”

Derek looked back at Kate, hot hatred in his chest, he growled and moved towards her. She pushed the cattle prod into his shoulder but didn’t turn it on.

“I don’t think so,” Kate said.

Shouts echoed down the hallway. The shuffling of a struggle as the hunter pulled Stiles into the room, throwing him on the ground next to Derek. He landed with a yelp and a groan.

“Welcome home Mischief,” Kate said. She circled them like a predator circling its prey, the hunter handing her Stiles’ pistol. “So, the alpha teamed up with the hunter.” She tossed Stiles’ gun on the metal table. “And all for what? One little beta?”

“And to kill you,” Stiles said.

“To kill me?” Kate laughed. “I think you forget whose side you’re on.”

“It’s never been more clear,” Stiles said. “They're not monsters, they’re just _people_.”

Kate stopped pacing and towered over the two of them on the ground. “Did Scott try and kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?” Kate asked.

“Yeah, we did, we had to handcuff him to a radiator, why?” Stiles spat. His voice growing with rage. “Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?”

Powerful hot anger flared off of Stiles. Derek thought the situation with Larry was as angry as Stiles got. But this... this was fury. Derek almost shifting from its intensity.

“Or, shoot him, execution style like you did to my father?”

Kate’s confidence faltered.

“That’s right, you bitch.” Stiles bit out. “I know. I know about it all. The fire, how Allison’s parents really died, my dad’s murder.”

Kate looked at the other hunter. “Restrain him.”

Stiles thrashed and shouted as the hunter dragged him across the ground. But the man was twice as large as Stiles. Kate kept the cattle prod close to Derek, knowing he’d make a move the second he had a chance.

The hunter chained Stiles up to the wall beside Cora. His shirt riding up and revealing just a section of the scar he’d gotten from Scott. The man was a complete mystery to Derek.

Kate turned the cattle prod on and pressed it into Derek's chest.

Unwillingly, he let out a pained shout. Twitching with the pulses of electricity coursing through his nerves.

“Stop!” Stiles shouted.

Kate held the cattle prod to Derek’s body. The pain stopping as his muscles seized up. His jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

“You’re killing him!” Stiles said. Tugging his wrists against the shackles.

The cattle prod shut off with a final zap and Kate turned on her heel, getting close to Stiles.

Catching his breath, Derek tried to get up off the ground. Protect Stiles. That’s what his wolf told him. But he had no energy, all he had was pain.

“Oh Mischief... what happened?” Kate crooned. “Did you fall in love with the big bad wolf?” She backhanded Stiles across the face.

Derek growled.

Spitting blood on the ground, Stiles looked up, glaring at her. “Yeah. I did.” His eyes colder than Derek had ever seen them.

Derek could hear the grin in Kate’s voice as she spoke. “Did he fall in love with you too?” She cocked her head to the side. “Did you learn from aunty Kate?”

She walked back to Derek and crouched down. “Found out what he likes... where he likes to be touched...” Dragging her hand up Derek’s thigh, his throat burned with bile at her touch. "What makes him beg for it."

Kate smirked at Derek as he just watched her. “He’s certainly different than the sixteen-year-old boy I knew.” She stood up, turning back to Stiles. “I can see why you couldn’t resist.”

“The difference between you and me, Kate –” Stiles said, looking past her and winking at Derek – “is that I’ve always been a lot better at getting out of restraints.” He punctuated the sentence with a punch to Kate’s face.

Derek forced himself up and grabbed the cattle prod from Kate, turning it on the hunter who came towards him. The guy dropped dead from the voltage.

“On your knees!” Stiles shouted behind him.

Derek threw the cattle prod on the table and ran over to Cora.

“Derek, I can’t believe you’re alive,” Cora slurred.

“I can’t believe you are,” Derek said. He broke the restraints, letting her fall in his arms.

Underneath all the awful smells of being locked up was the recognizable scent of his sister. Who was back in his arms, alive, after sixteen years of thinking she was dead. His shoulders shook with a single relieved sob as he cradled the back of her head.

“Don’t move,” Stiles shouted.

Derek pulled away and swung Cora’s arm over his shoulder to support her weakened body. Turning around he took in the scene in front of him.

Stiles had Kate on her knees. Gun pressed to the back of her head. His hand shook as tears ran down his face. He looked small standing there, even with the gun in his hand.

“Don’t do this Stiles,” Derek said. “Don’t let her bring you down to her level.”

Kate laughed. “He’s killed before. This will just be another body to add to the pile.” Blood ran down from her nose.

Stiles tightened his grip on the gun. “Shut up.”

“Shoot me, _Stiles_ ,” Kate said. “Exactly how I shot your father, except I’m not going to beg for my life the way he did.”

“Stiles, look at me,” Derek shouted.

He didn’t know why he was doing this. Kate deserved to be dead. If she was alive she’d keep hurting people. But Stiles killing her would eat him alive. And even after everything, Derek didn’t want him to suffer.

Stiles looked at him. A lost and shattered man stood in the place of the person who spent three weeks making Derek believe in a future without all of this.

“She killed my dad.” Stiles’ voice broke. “She killed Laura. Your whole family –” he tilted his head to the side, sniffling – “we hunt those who hunt us.” His tone hardening as his eyes fell back to Kate. “And Kate’s hunted us for too long, she deserves to die.”

“She does. But you don’t deserve to live with taking her life.” Derek pulled Cora up from where she sagged against him. “You’ve come this far... Stiles, you told me that the person you’ve been for the past three weeks is the person you want to be –”

Stiles looked up at Derek as if he held the answers.

“– that man wouldn’t do this,” Derek said. “Just lower the gun, walk away for once in your life.”

With a trembling exhale, Stiles dropped his arm.

“You’ve gotten soft Mischief,” Kate said. “I remember just a couple months ago, you coming to us, telling us another Hale was alive. One we didn’t know about.”

Stiles looked up at Derek, all wide-eyed and panic in his throat. “Derek, I didn’t –”

Kate grinned knowing she struck a chord. “Who do you think told us about your dear little sister? Huh, Derek? How do you think we found her?” Kate licked the blood from her lips. “He certainly got his daddy’s investigation skills.”

“Shut up!” Stiles shouted. “I – I didn’t – I tried to hide it, Derek, please, I didn’t want them to find out –”

“Really?” Kate asked. “What about all those others? The ones you found, you brought to us, or the ones that didn’t even make it back to the warehouse?”

“I swear Derek, I would’ve never told them about Cora,” he said.

His sister shuddered in his arms.

“Grab her,” Derek said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Stiles pulled Kate up with a hand around her bicep, the gun still pressed against her head.

“What happened to my favorite stone-cold killer?” Kate asked.

Ignoring her, the four of them walked down the hall and up the stairs of the cellar. Derek pulled out the metal bar the hunter had put in the handles and they finally left the awful bunker. The forest peaceful ahead of them. Allison and Scott nowhere in sight.

“Where are they?” Stiles asked.

“We’ll find them,” Derek said. When all he should’ve been doing was getting Cora out of there as fast as he could.

“What are we going to do with her?” Stiles asked, gesturing towards Kate.

“I don’t know.”

Kate was oddly quiet. The whole forest was, now that Derek thought about it, a soft whistle of wind and... heartbeats, lot’s –

The first arrow hit his back. The second lodged in his leg. His arms retracted in pain and Cora fell to the ground. A third hit his stomach, a fourth and fifth in his arms. All so quick there was nothing he could do.

“Derek!” Stiles turned back.

Kate swung around.

Derek reached for Stiles. “Watch –”

Kate hit Stiles across the back of the head and flipped him onto his back on the ground. The gun knocked out of his hands, sliding across the leaves. She pulled him up by the front of his shirt and punched him.

Stiles shouted in pain. His arms flailing outwards.

Kate punched him again.

Cora crawled behind a tree. Derek tried to move forwards but the arrows must’ve been laced with something because he could feel the poison burning its way through his blood.

The hunters in the forest screamed. Voices echoing all around them.

“You –” another punch – “owe –” another punch – “us –” another punch – “everything!” Kate shouted. “Everything you are is because of us!”

Stiles slumped onto the ground. “I know,” he mumbled.

Staring at Stiles bloodied and beaten on the ground, Derek roared and shifted, pulling the arrows out with chunks of flesh still attached to them. He threw Kate back into a tree.

The trunk cracked from the force. Kate sliding down to the ground, her head hanging limply.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted appearing on the ridge. He jumped down and ran over, helping Stiles off the ground.

“You’re okay,” Stiles said, his voice relieved. Blood covered his face. It was hard to tell where it was all coming from.

Kate stood up and moved towards Derek. Willing to take on an alpha weaponless and injured with a crazy look in her eyes.

“Kate!” Allison shouted. “Stop!”

Kate paused, looking up at Allison on the ridge and the arrow that was trained on her. She let out a wicked laugh that made Derek’s skin crawl with memories. “Oh sweetie, you don’t have the guts.”

“Shoulder,” Allison said, letting the bowstring go. The arrow flew through the air and hit Kate in the shoulder.

Kate grunted. Her hand lifting up to the arrow stuck in her skin.

Allison pulled out another arrow and steadied the bow. “Thigh,” she whispered. Letting the arrow go again. It hit Kate in the leg. She reloaded and pulled the arrow back. “Chest.”

“That’s enough.” Chris appeared up on the ridge. He knocked the bow from Allison’s hands. “We’re not going to kill each other.”

“She’s killed so many people,” Stiles said. Spitting blood out of his mouth. “The Hales, Laura, my dad... innocent people.” His words slurring together.

“They weren’t people.” Kate gritted her teeth from where she kneeled on the wet ground. The arrows still in her. “They were animals.”

“She’ll be arrested, spend the rest of her life in prison,” Chris said. “From now on, we’re going to be better.”

“Her victims didn’t get a trial.” Stiles pushed off Scott and scrambled forwards. He grabbed his pistol from the ground. Cocking the gun and shooting twice before anyone had time to react.

Allison’s scream ripping through the otherwise silent night. Kate collapsed forward into the dirt.

Stiles dropped the gun as if it’d burned him. Holding his hands out in front of him.

With Kate dead, Derek felt all the adrenaline rush out of his body. The poison took over and he fell to his knees. The pain was too great. Before he could fall forwards, Stiles caught him, hugging Derek against his chest.

Stiles cried into his shoulder. “What have I done?”

Even though he shouldn’t, Derek slowly lifted his arms and wrapped them around Stiles’ back, gripping the man’s sweater between his fingers. He let his forehead fall onto Stiles’ shoulder. And they kneeled together in the middle of the others. Derek’s body healing under Stiles’ touch.

Stiles’ body shook. “I should’ve never come to your place.” The swelling of his face distorting his voice.

His own body was almost fully healed. It’d somehow pushed the toxins from his veins. Everything in him recognized Stiles as safe and _home_. Even though Stiles was a hunter, trained to kill werewolves, even though he was sent to kill _Derek_. His body needed Stiles’ touch, needed the scent of him close.

As he got stronger, Derek held Stiles tighter and drained the man’s physical pain. Pin prickles in his veins as Stiles’ body sunk deeper into his embrace.

Stiles let out a deep breath. “You’re so good,” he whispered.

“The cops are here,” Cora said. She tugged on Derek’s shoulder. “We have to go.”

Slowly, Derek pulled away from Stiles and stood. Looking at the man he loved kneeling on the ground. Hunter and all.

Stiles looked up at him. His eyes could barely open. “Don’t go.” His voice cracked. “Please don’t go.”

Derek glanced over his shoulder, Cora’s expression urging him to leave.

He touched Stiles’ cheek gently. There were no words left. Turning around and ignoring Stiles’ pleas, he followed Cora out of the forest, away from the hunters and cops, the dead bodies, all of the pain.

And finally, together, they left the town that had taken everything and more from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote used from Teen Wolf Season 1, episode 12 said by Kate/Stiles originally said by Chris/Stiles:  
> “Did Scott try and kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?”   
> “Yeah, [we] did, [we] had to handcuff him to a radiator, why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: brief mentions of drug/alcohol abuse and an overdose.

**_August_ **

For the first time in almost two months he was back to being alone. Cora was on a plane back to South America after spending the past couple of weeks with Derek.

He _fucking_ hated it. The silence, the solitude. It was like he was twenty-two again, running from the hunters after Laura was killed.

Before Stiles, Derek’s life had been enough. He had enough with his place, his animals, his few friends. The town that welcomed him in and gave him a small sort of comfort. Now, there was a gaping hole.

_Could-have-beens_ and a life that had _more_ ripped away from him in the matter of minutes. And the worst part was that he didn’t desire just anybody. Any relationship with any person, someone he could take to the bar and show around the town. Take them to the swimming hole and ride the horses with. No. Not just anybody, he wanted Stiles. The man that’d squeezed his way into Derek’s life and tore him apart. 

Boyd and Erica’s car pulled up next to his truck. Both of them got out, walking over to where Derek sat on the steps.

“Cora catch her flight?” Erica asked, sitting down next to him.

He nodded.

“Derek...” Erica ran her hands over her thighs. “I’m so sorry.”

Derek buried his face in his arms and against his attempts to bury it down in his chest, not let people see him like this, he broke down for the first time since everything had happened. Erica’s arm wrapped around his body and she ran her hand through his hair. Even as embarrassment prickled the back of his neck over them seeing him like this, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in anymore.

When he didn’t have anything left in him, they moved to the chairs on the porch. Boyd pushed a beer into his hands but he couldn’t drink it, it just reminded him of Stiles and all the beers they shared on that same porch.

“I was fifteen when I met my first girlfriend...” Derek said, looking Rhythm and Dakota in the field and not at his only two friends.

That night they sat quietly as Derek told them everything that’d happened. Finally, after seventeen years telling someone the full story.

**_September_ **

Boyd dried off the beer glasses, placing them upside down on the bar. “I heard a rumor the other day... from Isaac.”

Derek looked at him. Isaac was from Boyd’s old pack back in Chicago. Another werewolf who kept up with the supernatural world. He wasn’t sure he cared to know the rumors floating around. Boyd told him anyways.

“Mieczysław Stilinski’s retired.”

A lump stuck in his throat. “So?”

“Took out Gerard Argent before he quit.”

Derek almost choked on sip of the water he’d just taken. “What?”

Boyd shrugged his shoulders. “Just a rumor I heard, thought it was kind of interesting.”

He lasted all of twenty minutes once he was back home. Dialing Cora’s number on his new phone.

“You know it’s two a.m. here right?” Cora groaned, answering on the first ring.

“I wouldn’t be able to call you in the middle of the night if you hadn’t forced me to get a phone.”

She huffed out a breath. “What is it?”

“I was wondering if you heard about Stiles.” Derek picked a stray cigarette butt off the ground, throwing it in the tin he still kept on the porch.

“What about him?”

“He’s not hunting anymore?”

“Hasn’t since everything happened.”

“Did he really kill Gerard?”

“Yeah.” Cora chuckled. “Shot him down in the Argent’s house... took a bullet to the chest in the process.”

“What?” Derek’s heart raced.

“He’s fine,” Cora said. “Last Scott heard from him he was on the coast.”

Derek couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that Stiles didn’t come here. On the good days, foolishly he wanted Stiles to show back up. And then other days, when it hurt worse, he was glad Stiles stayed gone.

**_October_ **

Derek drove over an hour to the closest big city with a club. His skin itched and his nerves were on edge. If he didn’t get out of the cabin he might’ve torn his skin apart.

It was a bad day. The kind of day where the past sixteen years weighed so heavily on his mind he couldn’t do anything.

A day when Stiles was all he thought of. He ran all their moments together through his mind and tried to find one where Stiles was a bad person. Broken, traumatized, a killer maybe. But a bad person? It was a day when Derek didn't know what to think.

The club was usually his last resort if it’d been a while. And it had. He needed to get the feeling of Stiles’ skin off his hands. Out of his mind.

A tall, blond man with a handsome face introduced himself. Derek’s type before Stiles. He fucked the man in the cab of his truck. And at one a.m. he drove home, feeling nothing at all.

**_November_ **

“Happy thanksgiving!” Erica said as she hugged him.

She pulled away and he handed her the homemade apple pie. The only thing she told him to bring.

“You too, where’s Boyd?”

“He forgot to buy potatoes.” Erica put the pie down on the kitchen counter. “Want a drink?”

“Water’s good.”

Erica poured him a glass from the sink. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good, you?” Derek sat down on the couch.

Erica raised an eyebrow. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“It’s been almost four months, I’m good.”

Erica placed two drinks down on the coffee table, settling on the chair next to the couch. “Derek, it’s understandable for you not to be okay... what he did to you, people don’t just get over that.”

Derek picked up the water, still unable to drink beer. Three weeks was all he knew Stiles – and he didn’t even really know him. There was no reason for him to be so fucked up all these months later.

“Want to know what I think?” Erica picked up her glass and took a sip.

“No.”

“Well too bad cause I’m your beta and I’m gonna tell you anyways.”

“I told you that’s not –”

Erica held up her hand. “I think it hurts so much because deep down you know he’s a good person but you can’t reconcile that with what’s happened.”

“What?” Derek laughed. “A good person?”

“Yeah. He was brainwashed as a kid. Abused just like you were, just like Boyd was. The second he got a chance, he started to question it and decided to do something about it even though they could’ve killed him.”

Derek swirled the water around in his glass.

“I’m not saying he was right for lying to you or coming here to use you as bait. But he was traumatized and hurt and misguided... sounds like someone you once told me about.”

Derek clenched his fist together, claws coming out, close to piercing his palm. Grief over Paige’s death drove him into Kate’s arms.

“You do remember that he shot me? _Twice_.”

“And you healed.” Erica moved to the edge of the chair. “Maybe if you lost Mieczysław the hunter then it would be different. But you didn’t, because he doesn’t exist and you know that.”

**_December_ **

“Derek!” Cora shouted.

He turned around.

She ran through the airport, duffel bag over her shoulder. As she got close she dropped the bag and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you."

“I missed you too.”

Cora pulled away. “Merry Christmas," she said with a big smile.

“You too.” He picked up her bag. “Flight was good?”

“Yeah, fine. No crying babies this time _thank god_.”

He smiled at that.

They drove the five hours back to the cabin. He’d been surprised when Cora called and asked if she could come visit for Christmas. Thought she’d spend it with her pack, but she insisted she’d rather spend it with him. He didn't have any gifts for her or even a tree set up but she didn't seem to care.

When they got back to his place, they sat with hot teas in front of the lit fireplace. Odie asleep on the couch between them.

“How’s Scott?” he asked.

“He’s adjusting really well.”

“And you’re sure you can trust Allison?”

“Yeah, she just wants to make up for the past. She’s pretty broken up about her parents and what really happened, but apparently Chris keeps in contact. Says he still thinks of her as his daughter.”

“He doesn’t know where you guys live right?”

“Unless Kate told him... no.” She tapped her fingernails on the side of her mug. “Do you want to know about Stiles?” she asked quietly, glancing over at him.

“I shouldn’t, not after this long... not after what happened.”

“Okay.”

Derek sighed. “What about him?”

“He’s not doing too well... into a lot of things he shouldn’t be.”

“Hunting again?”

Cora shook her head. “Drinking. Drugs. Scott didn’t know until he got a call from the hospital... he overdosed.”

He roughly swallowed. Tears pushing at his eyes. “Is he okay?”

“He’s alive, Scott’s been with him for the past couple of weeks.” She put her tea down and turned to face him. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces from Allison about what happened in the Argents' house, but Derek... it almost sounds worse than losing our entire family.”

**_January_ **

Crackling of hardened snow underneath car tires announced the arrival before anything else. Odie’s bark was next. Derek wasn’t expecting anyone. The potential threat heightened his senses even more.

Since the Stiles mess, he’d been back the way he was ten years ago. Looking out for possible threats all the time.

The heartbeat in the car was rapid. Nervous. Derek shut Rhythm’s stall door and walked out of the barn. The cold winter air biting at his face.

The windshield reflected the sun and he couldn’t see into the car. But he didn’t have to. He already knew who it was. Outside the barn doors he waited.

The door opened. And suddenly, after six months, there he was.

Stiles stood in the opening of the car door. He didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything. 

Derek had a choice. He could turn around, go back in the barn, make it clear that he didn’t want to talk to Stiles or see him ever again. Or he could keep walking. Put the past behind them because right now it all seemed insignificant.

Without a second thought, he took the steps forward.

Stiles pulled off his winter hat. His hair shaggily grown out. His cheeks sunken and skin so pale it was almost translucent. Dark purple bags underlined his eyes. He looked like shit. Like life had chewed him up and spit him back out.

And as Derek got closer, he looked up with those big cognac-brown eyes that first drew Derek in.

A moment of possibilities passed.

“Hey,” Stiles said.

Derek let out a deep breath.

“Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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